Night's Guard
by TheDarkOn3
Summary: Oh, joy! I get to work the night shift for the town creep! Yay! This is the story of my time at the infamous Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, and all the crap that I had to go through because of it. Enjoy. And be glad you weren't in my place. (OC vs Fazbear Gang. Eventually a romance flick. Don't judge)
1. The First Night

**Night's Guard - **

**Chapter The First**

Alright, 11:28 pm. _Got here a little bit early. Awesome._ This is my first night working here at Fazbear's, and I need to make a good first impression if I want to keep my job. Mr. Venitts said he expects great things from me. Why he'd say that to the new night guard, of all things is beyond me.

Oh! You're probably wondering what the fuck I'm talking about. Right. Well, I've just graduated from [INSERT UNIVERSITY], [INSERT STATE] with a Associate's in Applied Sciences. I know, not the best choice for a major. I mean, what am I going to do with a somewhat patchy knowledge of Physics, some good old mechanical knowhow (courtesy of my father, who obviously works as a mechanic), and the beginnings of an interest in electronics? Why, get a job working the night shift at the locally infamous pizza joint, at minimum wage, of course! What else _could_ you do with a college education, nowadays? Come on, it's not like dreams and aspirations have any _actual_ meaning. Not in the real world, anyways.

And so it was, that I saw an ad in the local paper, that the sleazy bastard who owns that perverted pizzeria needed a new night guard. I'd be working 12 to 7, as seven was when the day staff come in to open the place. It was, despite the infamy of the place, a tempting proposition. You see, I'd been taking a few night classes in my final semester, to make up for a few lost credits earlier in the year, so I already had the nyctofilia (love of nighttime and darkness/nocternalism) going for me. Other than that, I just had to get over the fact that I'd be working for the town perv, and _boom!_ I've got a job.

That was Saturday. Today, Monday, is the result of calling up Mr. Venitts, asking about the job, haggling the pay _up _to minimum wage (can you believe that? He wanted me to work the fucking _night shift _for _four dollars an hour_. Who the Hell does he think I am?), and finally figuring out my schedule- I'm working Monday through Friday, with the possibility of overtime on the weekends.

_**Joy.**_

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I can get back to explaining my first night.

11:29. That's when I arrived at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Mr. Venitts, my new boss, was just closing up shop- turning off lights, locking doors, etc. - when I got in. We had already met up on Sunday night, when he'd had me sign a few papers, gave me the door key and told me to come early. So as I come in, I give my customary two finger salute, and say, "Hello Sir, I'm here early, like you asked. What was it you wanted to show me?"

Mr. Venitts is a short man in his late 40s, maybe early 50s, scraggly brown hair falls at shoulder length around a scrunched up face, all beady eyes and pointed nose. He's your average overweight slob when it comes to attire, despite his manager's uniform. And his _eyes._ God, there's just something_ wrong_ with them. I could never tell what, though. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies. _Bleck. _ So imagine my surprise, when instead of that usual _wrongness,_ I see instead barely restrained- almost to the point of looking manic- glee, just radiating from him in waves. It was not what I'd suspected. And I was even further thrown off by the evident cheer in his reply, "Oh, hello! Mr. Reeves! Yer here! Good. Good. I have much to show ya, before ye start. Oh! Let's introduce ya to th' crew, eh? Follow me!" I followed.

Now, to you, that probably didn't seem odd at all, but when I had talked with Mr. Venitts previously, both on the phone and on Sunday, he had been altogether dour, and said nary a word more than was required of him. That droning monotone of his didn't help matters. Yet as I followed him, I could tell that the man I met before today had been but a mask, a façade to keep people from... something. I don't know what. That, or I'm just being paranoid. It was weirding me out, so I asked, "what happened to the Mr. Venitts I met yesterday? Are you his evil twin or something?"

He laughed at me.

_**I hate it when people laugh at me.**_

"That's a good one, lad. No, I'm 'is brother, Jake," he offered me his hand, "nice t' meet ya!"

We shook.

I reigned in my anger. I couldn't afford to blow up on my boss before my first night even started. I'd be screwed.

As we resumed walking I said, "his brother?" _Huh, _I thought, _that would explain the eyes... And the new accent._ "David never said anything about having a brother." Not that he ever talked about much of anything, but still.

Unfortunately for our conversation, as we rounded the next corner, we found ourselves behind the main stage, where (the majority of) David Venitts' infamy was born. Three robots stood facing the stage, eyes closed and heads down. Deactivated, probably. They stood like so, on the far left, a lavender bunny, female- of course. Wide of hip, and small of breast, she stood the tallest of the three, at around 6' 4" if you didn't count the ears. She held an orange plastic replica of a bass guitar in her left hand, and had a red bowtie around her neck. Jake introduced her as 'Bonnie'; clearly no-one here has ever heard of the word _creativity_. Jake also says she's shy, or some shit like that. Pfft, a shy robot. Do they talk to? What a bunch of bull.

A brown bear, equipped with top hat, tie and microphone, stood in the middle. She- because this robot was _also_ female, held a slightly above average figure. C cup breasts, fair hips, and all in all she stood the proudest of the three (I suppose having the lead role has its benefits), despite also being the shortest, at a measly 5' 3". Her name was Freddy Fazbear, according to Jake, and when I asked him why his brother would name a girl _Freddy _of all things, he simply replied, "He didn't." I dropped that line of questioning, vaguely unnerved by his response.

And last, but certainly not least, on the far right stood a yellow chicken, of course, she was a girl too. _Why I would expect anything different from _him _of all people, I'll never know._ She stood at 5' 11" and she had to have had the biggest rack I've ever seen. She was at least a G cup. Not even kidding. _Seriously. What the _fuck. Jake says this one's named Chica. Apparently, she's the most outgoing of the bunch._ Heh, as if._ She wore a bib that, surprisingly, actually covered the entirety of her cleavage. It said simply "let's eat!". She also seemed to be holding a cupcake, of all things. Why one of the mascots for a _pizzeria _would have a cupcake, I'll never know.

Heh. Maybe it sang soprano.

I was shaken from my scrutiny by the voice of Jake, whom I had all but forgotten in my critique of the Fazbear gang. "Well, me boy, it's about time for yer shift to start. Let me show ya where you'll be stayin' eh?"

Still mildly perturbed by the disturbingly_ human_ looking "animatronics", as Jake calls them, I took one last glance at the trio of... _things_. I gave Jake an ascenting _hmm_ by way of answer, and we started towards my new home for the night.

On the way, we passed another stage, proclaiming itself to be "Pirate's Cove". Next to the closed curtains was a sign saying, "Sorry! Out of order". When I asked Jake what it was, he said, "that's where Foxy lives, mate. She's been out of commission since the Bite of '87. Me brother never really got around ta fixin' 'er up, after _that_ old mess. Just... listen, just don't go in there, alright? The place hasn't been cleaned in years." Bullshit. There was something back there, and I was going to find out what it was. Just... not tonight. I've got to figure out a pattern for my shift, first.

Down the end of a fairly long hallway, was my guard kiosk. It was fucking _tiny_. Seriously, it was the size of a broom closet. A swivel chair, a single computer monitor, and a desk fan. That's all I had. That, and some posters for the restaurant. A single, bare lightbulb illuminated the room. It was doing a terrible job.

I sat down in my new chair, which, despite it looking like it was about to fall apart, was incredibly comfortable.

Jake started filling me in on what everything did, proper protocol, how to use the computer, you know, the usual. I didn't listen to a word of it. Instead, I took a look at my surroundings, fiddled with a few of the controls, wondered why the Hell they'd need what I swear to you were fucking steel _blast doors_ in a place like this, and finally swiveled around and checked the computer monitor to see what kind of security system they had (shitty swivel-head cameras, with a terribly small line of sight). Several minutes passed, and it seemed as though my boss was finally wrapping up, so I pulled my attention back to Jake. "...And that's about it. Have a good night, Mr. Reeves."

And with that, he left.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

I was alone.

_Time?_

11:59 pm.

_Welp. I'm bored._ Good thing I brought my phone. And thank God for iFunny.

My wrist beeped. 12 o'clock.

_**It begins.**_

I set down my phone and decide to look around my office for a few minutes, and imagine my surprise when I spot one of those old corded phones, lying in the darkest corner of the table opposite my desk. No sooner had I seen it, that it started ringing.

I shot out of my chair and had the phone to my ear by the second ring.

"Hello?" I said. "This is Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, may I ask who's calling?"

Silence.

And then, "Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?" _Recorded messages? Odd..._

"Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced." Wait. _What?_

"Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay." Pfft. 'Hearts of children' my ass.

"So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?" _Ooh._ Yeah, that _was_ pretty bad, no wonder Jake didn't want me back there. Foxy was probably the one who bit that kid. Ouch.

"Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh." Well _shit_. I'm bringing my taser tomorrow, I don't care what they say, I am _not_ letting that happen to me.

"Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."

...

_**Shit.**_

Welp, my job just got infinitely more interesting. Was I scared? Yes. Was I going to whine about it? Hell no. I signed up for this job, and despite the clear risk of injury and death, I'm going to fucking do it. Even if it kills me.

Time? 12:49. Wow, that guy talked for most of a whole hour. Damn, son.

I check the power, as the mysterious Phone Guy told me to, 97% power. Cool. Cameras next. Dining room, check. Hallways and bathrooms, check and check. Kitchen- the camera in the kitchen is broken. _Joy._ However, it seems to pick up audio instead. _Isn't that illegal?_ I'm pretty sure security cameras aren't allowed to record audio, for privacy reasons, or something. Meh. I can use that as potential blackmail, if I ever need it. Pirate Cove, check. Back stage- wow, that place doesn't look creepy at all. Nope.

Looks like everything's going fine. Power, 91%. _Seriously? How the Hell am I supposed to last seven hours on such a crappy power supply?_ Whatever. I'll figure something out.

The Phone Guy said that the machines like to wander, couple that with the whole 'stuff me into a suit' spiel, and- "Fuck it," I spat at the screen, "I'm going to watch you stupid robots like a fucking hawk. Just _try _to fucking move without me seeing it, _I dare you_."

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

You know, looking back on it, the fact that Mr. Venitts wanted a night guard at all makes a whole lot more sense now that I know what I'm supposed to be watching. I'm not sure what a night guard would _do_ in a pizza place otherwise. It's been the better part of three hours since I dared the Fazbear gang to move. I had about 56% power, and nobody has moved.

I've already counted every spot of mold in the room, and I'm running out of bottles of beer on the wall. _Good God, I'm bored._

"...17 bottles of beer on the wall, 17 bottles of beer! Ya take one down, pass it around, 16 bottles of beer on th- Oh! Look! One of them snuck away while I wasn't looking!" Yeah... I talk to myself sometimes... Shut up. You can't tell me what to do!

"Looks like Chica decided to take a walk, eh? That's fine, just let me find ya... ah! There you are. Taking a bathroom break? That's fine. Just give me a freaking warning next time, okay? Jeez." Heh. She almost had me scared for a minute. I told her as much over the loudspeaker, "Hey, Chica! Next time you leave, could ya give me some sort of warning? You almost had me scared for a moment there. Thanks." I swear to you, when I looked back to the computer screen, I almost pissed myself in _shock_. Not fear. Nope. Definitely not scared of a few robots who would stuff me into a suit full of wires and metal bits as soon as they saw me. Not at all.

Chica was full-on _staring_ into the camera, eyes wide open. No pupil could be seen, just a vast expanse of glowing _white_.

She blinked.

I blinked.

She was gone.

_**Shit.**_

I checked all the cameras as quickly as I could, and found her just outside, in the right hallway. I swiveled around so fast I was sure I was about to break my neck, and closed the door. _Jesus H. Christ._ _What the fuck._

44% power. 4:08 am.

I turned on the door light. Chica was staring at me through the window, hands on the glass. I shuddered so hard I could feel my bones shake. "Good God, you're creepy as fuck." I pointed a finger at her, "you're lucky I didn't bring my taser with me tonight, otherwise you'd be in a world of hurt right now. You hear me? Go away, and stop being so God damned scary." I turned back to my monitor and checked the stage. Bonnie was missing as well.

_**Joy.**_

I checked the light on the left-hand door, no Bonnie. _Good._ I checked my cameras, and found her in what I was beginning to call the Room of Doom (aka, backstage). You know, the place with all the spare machine parts, and masks, and that creepy... endoskeleton? Yeah. Endoskeleton. That place. She was just standing there, looking at the wall. "Okay then, Bonnie. You... keep on doing what you're doing... I guess. I'll check back on you later." I turned back to the door on the right, and flicked on the light. No Chica. Huh. _Maybe she took my advice, and made herself scarce?_ I doubted it, so I checked the cameras again, and found her in the main room, sitting at one of the tables.

I opened the door, and checked the power, 21%. _Uh oh. Time?_ 5:28. _Okay, I just need to make that last for the next hour-and-a-half, and I'll be home free._

I checked my door lights.

Bonnie was leaning in from the left doorway. I jumped out of my chair, Spartan-kicked her back into the hallway, and closed the door. "Fucking knock next time! Jesus!" I shouted through the door. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

I checked my cameras again. Chica hadn't moved from her spot at the table, but Freddy had decided to join her there. If they had the ability talk, one might mistake them as having a conversation, but since they did not, it merely looked as if they were collectively staring at nothing. I blinked. Freddy was staring at me- er, she was staring at the _camera_, not me.

Nope.

I suppressed a shiver, and checked the door lights. Bonnie was gone, so I opened the door.

12% power, 6:04. Fifty six minutes. I can do this.

Cameras: everyone was gathered at the table. They seemed to be staring at each other with those glowing white eyes of theirs. _God, those are weird._ The eyes themselves looked like they'd come straight from an anime. For those that don't know, that means that the eyes are incredibly big, and take up about a quarter of their collective faces' surface area, and don't even get me started on the _shape_. It's just _wrong._ People aren't supposed to look like that, I don't care how "cute" it is. Not to mention that it's anatomically impossible (human eyes are spherical, if our eyes were that big, there wouldn't be enough space for the brain... which explains why so many characters in anime are as dumb as they are).

6:56, 3% power. They haven't moved. Not once, in the past hour, have they moved. It has me more on-edge than when they were outside my door(s?). I checked myself, to make sure I had everything on me. I didn't. _Where did my phone go?_ I thought I had it on the desk.

My watch beeped, telling me my shift was over. I checked the cameras a final time, to see everyone was back in their proper places, ready for a new day. I stood from my chair, arching my back, and popped my everything, because good God_, _I was _sore._ I guess seven hours sitting in a chair will do that to a guy, no matter how comfortable said chair happens to be.

I shut everything down, and stepped out of my Fortress of Solitude™. On my way out, I noticed something on one of the tables. My phone. I scanned the room, trying to find- _there!_ The camera for this room. As I looked between the table and the camera, I noticed it was the same table that _they_ had been sitting at for the past hour. I shuddered, and picked up my phone. I tried to turn it on, only to be met with the low battery warning, before it promptly shut itself off. I had charged it in my car on the way here, and it was at something like 60-70% when I took it out of my pocket earlier. _What were they doing with my phone?_ I wondered. _Nothing good, I bet._

And with that, I left.

_**Achievement Get! The First Night**_

**Author's Note: Just a fair warning, this is my first attempt at Fan fiction, so I apologise ahead of time for any errors, whether they be for grammar or spelling, or something else entirely. Please leave feedback on what you think I need to do to make this story better, as I have every intent on finishing it to the best of my ability. **

**TheDarkOn3, out.**


	2. Second Sight

**Night's Guard - **

**Chapter The Second**

_Night two, motherfuckers_. I go over my gear as I get ready to leave my one bedroom apartment. Flashlight, check. Electric lamp, check. Taser, double check. Dad's box o' tools, checkity-check. Two NOT gates (and a wire cutter/stripper, to install them),_** all the checks.**_ Tablet, because fuck turning around to look at a stupid computer monitor, check! Alright. Let's do this.

It's Tuesday, 11 p.m. and I'm heading towards a second night of nightmare-inducing guard duty, watching over- what I'm sure are possessed- animatronics for seven hours straight. _Ain't my life grand?_ Oh, well. At least the pay's good. (I did some calculations, and by the end of the first week I'll have made 250+ dollars! That is, of course, excluding overtime... and tax cuts)

My plan for tonight is simple. I'm going to remove the coverings to the door control buttons, install a NOT gate on each of the doors, and relax. Now, for those of you that don't know, NOT gates are what's known as Invert Gates, and what they do is change an electric charge to it's opposite, I.e. negative to positive, and positive to negative. What that'll do to the doors, is make it so instead of consuming power to have the doors _closed_, it'll only consume power to keep them open. I have to get the go-ahead from my boss first, but I'm hoping he'll allow it. If he doesn't, I still have my taser on me, and there's no way in Hell I'll allow him to take that from me, job be damned.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

_I have arrived._ One twenty minute drive to my newest place of work, the infamous Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, and I step out of my car. It's a 2009 Dodge Challenger, if you were wondering. Got it off my Dad for half of its asking price, too! Best. Deal. _Ever_.

As I walk up from the parking lot towards the dilapidated building that houses Freddy's, I can't help but wonder just how _old_ this place really is. The building looks like it was plucked from the middle of the 1960's, meaning that it is blocky to the point of appearing square, coated in an off-white, and peeling plaster, under which, lies what looks to be the standard brown of building bricks. This place has four entrances/exits, the front doors, one on each side of the show stage- made of glass, for the sake of advertising the inside- and two emergency exits, which are located in the Kitchen, and in the Room of Doom/backstage, respectively. The floor plan is very grid-like, with everything centered around the dining room. Allow me to draw you a mental map. Take my office, put it on the bottom of a piece of paper, and call it South. From there, make two hallways, one on either side of my office. They lead to the dining room. On the left-most hallway, let's call it West Hallway, there is a supply closet, it holds all the supplies needed to clean up my dead body should I ever be killed working here. Now to the dining room. Walking out of my office, along the left wall you will see the small stage that hosts Foxy, Pirate's Cove. Further along that wall is the door leading to the Room of Doom™/the repair room/backstage. On the right wall are the restrooms, one for both genders. Along the same wall that the East and West hallways emerge, is the door to the kitchen. I haven't actually been in there yet, and the camera for that room is broken, so I don't know what the place actually looks like once you step inside. Finally, on the wall opposite my office, is the show stage, where the Fazbear gang play, and where they are stored, come evening-time.

_Jesus._ Look at that wall of text. _Holy crap._ Well, I hope it was useful, at least.

_Anyways_, I walked into the store just as the last customer was making his way out, and gave him a friendly nod as I passed. Looking around, I couldn't see either of the Venitts brothers, so I called out, "Hello? Mr. Venitts? Are you here? I need to talk to you!" I walked down towards my office, still trying to see if I could find my boss. Poking my head through the door to the kitchen, I observed that it was empty, and looked exactly like any other restaurant kitchen, if a bit more messy due to the pizza.

Something tapped me on the shoulder, and as I spun around to see what it was I very nearly collided with someone's face. As we both reeled ourselves back, I saw the face of David, though I could only tell by his eyes, which, when compared to his brother, were of a much darker shade of brown, and set slightly closer together. Side-by-side with Jake, I would say that David was also just a tad taller than him, as well as a bit more weighty. Now recovered from the near collision, I quickly apologized, saying, "oh! Sorry, Sir. You scared me! I didn't mean to react like that."

He just gave me a level stare, and told me not to worry about it, of course, it was with that hypnotic monotone of his, thus confirming him as David. Quickly collecting myself, I pulled up my tool box, and said, "I was actually looking for you, Sir. I have a question for you."

He continued with that God awful stare of his, and raised his eyebrow.

Unfazed, I continued, "would you mind if I make a few modifications to the power system, Sir? I think I have a solution that will be quite beneficial to any future night guards."

He blinked, and nodded. "So long as you don't break anything, kid. If you do, it'll be coming out of your paycheck."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, "Would you like to supervise, while I install them?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm about to head home. Get the lights when I leave." And he started towards the door.

"Wait!" I cried. When he turned to look at me, I gestured vaguely around the room, "I don't know where the fuse box is, Sir. Nobody told me about it."

"Ah." He said, understanding in his otherwise emotionless voice. "It's in the supply closet, on the way to your office." He waved, gave me a, "Goodnight, Mr. Reeves," and was gone. Out the door before I could respond.

I shrugged my shoulders, and spoke loudly towards the stage, where the source of my recent nightmares were kept.

"Alright, you assholes. If any one of you think you're gonna get to me tonight, think again! I've got a plan to keep you out, _forever!_" I gave them my best evil villain laugh, and was on my way.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Fifteen minutes spent messing with wires later, the doors were good to go. I sighed, and leaned back in my chair. _Tonight's going to be pretty boring,_ I thought,_ now that I've fixed the door problem._

Time? 12:02

"It's going to be a long night."

I turned on my lamp, and stood to go set it on the table opposite my desk. As I did, the phone started to ring. I picked it up, whilst setting down the lantern, and said, "Hello?"

No answer, maybe it was one of those re-

"Uhh, Hello? Hello?" Yup. It was a pre-recorded message. Called it. "Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and her friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..." Nah, both of the doors are closed, I'm good.

"Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy herself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard she becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if-if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that." _Already fixed that problem, thanks for the warning, though._ "Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that she becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess she doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon." Ah. That must've been about Foxy._ I guess I have a reason to watch the cameras, now._

I pulled a tablet from my toolbox, along with a connection cord, and plugged it into the computer. Finally, after roughly half an hour of fiddling with various programs and trying figure out how to get the monitor to display itself on the tablet, I gave up. I'm not a techie, damn it. _I'll look up a How To tomorrow. Then I'll be set for life._

By now, it was approaching 1 o'clock, and I still had 94% power. See? Just because I'm not tech-savvy, doesn't mean I'm not smart. _However, _I thought, _I will need to insulate those wires, having them open to the elements like that won't be good for them._ _Hmm. I guess I'll be bringing electrical tape tomorrow... maybe a soldering iron, too. That or I can try to convince one of my bosses to hire an actual electrician... let's stick with solder and tape, for now; I don't want to push my boundaries too far and be out of a job._

I removed the cord from both computer and tablet, and put them both back into the bag. The tablet, that is, not the computer. It was time to check the cameras.

I hummed myself a tune as I checked the cameras for the first time that night, and found myself more than a little surprised to see all three of the trio of terror had left the stage. _Huh. Guess what the Phone Guy said was true, then. They _do _become more active as the week progresses. _Interesting. Chica was in the bathroom again, so I turned on the loudspeaker, and brought up my best parent-scolding-their-child voice. "Chica... what did I tell you about not telling me when you were going to move...? I told you not to do it. Remember? All I'm asking for is a simple gesture, maybe- I don't know, maybe you could tap on the camera, or something. That's all I ask." Let's see, who's next? Room of Doom? Empty. Dining room? Empty. West Hallway? Bonnie. Eas- wait, go back. Yup. That's Bonnie. Standing creepily in the middle of the hallway. Nothing weird about that. Nope. _It's a good thing I shut those doors, now nothing can get in!_

Naturally, that's when things started to go wrong.

It started when the single overhead lightbulb flickered out. Something I hardly noticed, thanks to my electric lamp. Of course, it was the next thing in line to flicker out and die. I was quick to notice, this time, and turned myself around just in time to see the little table fan shudder and die as well. "I swear, if this isn't a ghost, or ghosts, then I must have the worst luck in the entire state." Of course, living in Nebraska doesn't give you too many people to compete with, but still.

I thought I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, but by the time I turned to look, it was gone. It happened again. And again. And again. Until I noticed that it wasn't movement I'd seen, but _static._ White noise. It filled my vision, and clogged my ears. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I couldn't _feel_. It was all-consuming.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

_Bang bang bang!_

Suddenly, everything thing was normal again. The lights were on, the fan was spinning, and my monitor was showing an incredibly... _dilapidated? No. Run down? No, that doesn't work either. Tattered? Eh. It's better than the other two, I suppose._ My monitor was showing the outline to an extremely _tattered_ looking fox-esque animatron (animatronic? Decepticon? What the fuck ever) at my door, banging a metal hook- fresh from a horror game- against my left-hand door.

My whole body shuddered. Head to toes. _Was that even real?_ _Was it a dream of some kind? It felt so _real_, though, was it all in my head?_

_**I don't want an answer to that question.**_

Foxy was still banging on my door, so I shouted into the mic, "**WHAT?!**"

She stopped.

I turned on the door light, expecting her to be gone, only to nearly piss myself (again) as I saw her looking into the window at me, wearing an expression of- I swear to you- actual _concern_. From what I could see of her, which wasn't much considering she must have been crouched down on the floor, she had dirty, red-ish brown colored fur, scarred, and torn in places, by years of neglect and mishandling, I'm sure. She wore an eye patch over her left eye, had a red bandana tied around her forehead, and I could see the beginnings of what looked to be gauze tape wrappings on her torso and arms. The rest of her was hidden by the window frame.

Startled into confusion by her actions, I blinked at her.

She blinked back, with those empty-white eyes of hers, then, she smiled. Fucking _smiled. _

_**Robots aren't supposed to smile.**_

I blinked again, now even more confused.

She was gone. _Thump-thump-thumping_ down the hall.

Oooh-kay then. _What time is it?_ 5:19 am.

_**What.**_

Four hours. I lost. _Four. Fucking. Hours._ Maybe I _was_ dreaming. That would explain the loss of four freaking hours. What it _wouldn't_ explain, was the fact that the power had gone down to 9% during my absence. Again. _**What?**_

I checked my phone. It was dead. My electric lamp flickered once, and with a quiet_ pop!_ it died, as well. Once again, I was left with the singular, barebulb, overhead light. Dangling, as it was, in the mass of wires that is my ceiling, it _still_ proved itself to be a terrible source of light, as it barely lit up the room any more than the computer monitor did, and now it was flickering like a fucking candle in the wind, _on top of that._ It irked me to no end. _Yeah, be angry at the lightbulb, and _don't _focus on the fact that we lost four hours of our shift to white noise._ Good plan. That way, I'll be less liable to have a panic attack while I'm working.

_**Jinx!**_

I debated sending a prayer up to God, asking him just _why_ he was fucking with me like this, but ultimately decided against it. He gets enough complaints as is.

At 6:57 am, the power went out. Now, most of you are thinking, _'but your doors are still down, they can't get you. What are you worried about?'_ Me? Oh I'm not worried about anything. Except, maybe, the fact that, I don't know... _I want to leave this God forsaken room?!_ _ The power is out, which means I can't open the door, which means I can't go home, and if I can't get home, I won't be able to get a good day's sleep, and if I don't get a good day's sleep, I won't be able to get to work, and if I can't get to work I'll be fired! And then I'll be unemployed, and I won't have money to pay my bills, so I'll be kicked out onto the street, and it's almost winter, and oh, God. Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod! I'm dead! I'm dead! I'm-_

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

The doors opened.

I slapped myself in the face. _Okay, what the flying_ fuck_, was _that _all about? Was that a panic attack? I've never had one like _that_ before._ (Because, face it, we've _all _had panic attacks at some point in our lives, don't even try to deny it!) I groan as I start to stand, pop my joints, and try to bring some life back into my legs. I fall back into my seat, due to a complete lack of feeling from my ass, down.

_**Joy.**_

I looked at my watch, 7:22. _The day staff must have come in._ Which means that I have been flipping my shit for the better part of the last half hour.

I try to get up again, notice that my legs are working again, and make for the door. My thoughts feel muddled as I make my way towards the parking lot. As I stand at my car, fumbling with my keys, I can't help but feel like I've forgotten something, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. So I shrug, thinking, _that's future Jay's problem, not mine._ I finally unlock my car, and start home in a daze of foggy thoughts.

_**Achievement Get! What the What?**_

_**Achievement Get! The Second Night**_

**Author's Note: May I present, Chapter II! Now with separation thingies! As usual, give me your feedback, critiques, comments, concerns, etc. I will do my best to answer questions, if you ask them. That is all!**

**TheDarkOn3, out.**


	3. Strange Times

**Night's Guard -**

**Chapter III**

_**Shit.**_

That was the first thought to go through my head, come Wednesday afternoon.

I had just woke up, to realize that I'd left pretty much everything but my wallet and keys back in the kiosk at Freddy's. Including my phone, which meant I couldn't call anyone to go get my stuff for me.

_**Double shit.**_

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Here I am, back at Freddy's at 6 o'clock, Wednesday afternoon. _God damn it. I need to be prepping for Halloween! Not farting around, trying to find my stuff._ Yeah, Wednesday is errand day, and with Halloween coming up next Friday, I wanted to get stocked up on candy, and set up my decorations. That, and get my costume cobbled together.

Yes, I still celebrate All Hallow's Eve. Yes, I _am_ too old for trick-or-treating. And yes, I do it anyways. Can you blame me, though? I mean, _come on!_ It's free candy! Who the Hell am I to pass up free tooth decay?

I sighed, and walked through the front door. _Alright, in and out, just grab your things and get out of here, _I told myself, _it'll only take a few minutes, and then we can go buy our supplies._ But alas, it was never meant to be, as I was stopped by one of the waitresses on my way through the dining area.

"Hey, aren't you Jayson Reeves?" She asked, grabbing my had as I tried to walk past her.

"Yeah?" I replied, confused, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, Mr. V wanted me to let you know that your stuff is backstage." She said, pointing to the metal door that read 'EMPLOYEES ONLY'. You know the one. "Oh! And he wanted me to tell you that he almost locked himself into that room of yours, said the power went out and he couldn't leave. He wants you to fix it."

I sighed, gave her a "thank you", and started towards the Room o' Doom. _Goddamnit._ _I don't want to be doing this shit right now._ I practically kicked the door open in a storm of indignant fury. I stomped up the the counter, grabbed my toolbox, my dead phone, and my dead lamp, and turned around to see Freddy standing just a few inches from me. I did _not_ drop my stuff on the floor, and I did _not_ scream like a little bitch. I screamed like a man, and punched Freddy in the face.

I regretted it immediately. "GAH!" I screamed, "MY _HAND!_ What are you made of, metal?! ...oh, wait... you are... shit."

By this point, I'd noticed that Freddy hadn't moved during the entirety of my little freak out session. Then I remembered that they aren't allowed to move during the day, and facepalmed. _Hard._ "Oh, right. You can't move right now, can you." It wasn't a question. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Ya scared me, is all, and I tend to get a little violent when scared." Yup. I have weird reactions to things that I don't like; well, that's what my friends say, anyways. "Hey! Come this weekend, I'll make it up to ya! Y'all are all gonna get a bath!" Have I mentioned before, how terribly these machines stink? No? Well, let me tell you.

Imagine the smell of garbage- no, imagine the smell of pizza, then pour some sweat onto the pizza, throw a few dirty socks on top, dip it in blood, fry it, bake it, and leave it out in the Sun for a few months. That's what they smell like. Not pleasant, is it?

_**No. No it is not.**_

Anyways, I gathered up the stuff that I _totally_ didn't drop on the floor in a blind panic, and started walking towards my office, significantly less angry than before. _Hmm. It seems punching things in the face is a pretty good way to get rid of anger. I might have to buy myself a punching bag, one of these days..._

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Ten minutes spent reconnecting the wires on the right-hand door later, I was gathering up my tools, ready to go run my errands for the day. I'd decided on a partial fix on the door situation, because as long as one of the doors stays open when the lights go out, I'm set. I chose the left-hand door to remain closed, because that's the side I've had the most 'visits' on. That, and I'm right-handed, so... yeah. I stand up from my position by the door, and turn towards the exit-

Freddy is standing there.

_No. Not Freddy, this one is... gold? _Yeah, gold. And male, judging by the lack of cleavage.

"What are ya lookin' at, me boy?"

I jump, and drop my toolbox (again). I turn around to see Jake Venitts standing in the frame of the other door. _I could have sworn that that was closed a few minutes ago._ A mumbled, "what?" escapes me, though Jake still seems to have heard it.

"I was askin' what ye were looking at, boyo." He replied, clearly amused by my confusion.

I turned around to point at the machine, only to find him gone.

"Uh... nothing, Sir. I was just thinking about something. Don't worry about it." Lying to my boss on day three. What a wonderful employee I must be. _Hey, look! Unintended rhymes! Cool!_ Gathering up my stuff from the floor (for the second time, today), I stood, and felt Jake's hand on my shoulder.

"Are ya sure, me boy?" He continued, his voice laced with false concern, "It looked as though you'd seen a ghost." Hah! The ghost cliché. Never thought I'd be hearing it in real life...

"Yes I'm sure, Sir. I'm fine," I raise my brow, and add, "and _ghosts_, Sir?" I snort, "there's no such thing as ghosts."

_**Lies.**_

He releases my shoulder, and I'm on my way once more.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

At 11:52, I put my challenger in park, step out of my car, and walk towards another night of nightmares. _I'm going to have to pay special attention to the right-hand hallway, tonight. I don't want to have to explain to my boss why one of his beloved _"animatronics"_ looks like fried chicken._ Yep. I had everything charged and ready to go. Heck, I even checked the battery on my taser. _My taser._ Yeah. I didn't want to find out that the battery in that thing was dead, when I'm almost definitely going to be using it tonight. _That'd be a great way to die. They can put it on my tombstone, _'HE WAS NOT PREPARED' _or something like that._ But I was a motherfucking _Boy Scout _(Eagle Award, bitches!), and a Boy Scout is _always _prepared.

I pulled open the door, and stepped inside.

_**I was not prepared...**_

...to see the Fazbear Gang staring at me from across the room. I had my taser in hand faster than most people can blink, and I fell into a defensive stance; ready for them to attack.

They didn't attack.

I relaxed my posture, but kept my taser in hand as I approached the trio. As I neared the three, I noticed that their heads were down, eyes closed. I spoke loudly, "don't you _dare_ try to trick me into believing that you three are deactivated. I'm not stupid. Now move out of my way so I can do my fucking job."

They didn't move.

"I don't have time for this!" I shout, and bowl over Chica and Bonnie to get to the hallway that leads to my office. "Don't stand around, next time! You stupid bunch of whores!" I storm down the hall, and arrive at a closed door. _Goddamnit_. I turn myself around, expecting the worst, to find an empty hallway. No robots, whatsoever.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

I'm sat in my office chair, contemplating suicide, when the phone rings again.

It's 12:02, and I'm beginning to see a pattern to these recordings. I pick up the phone, and wait for my nightly piece of advice.

"Hello, hello?" _Hello!_ "Hey you're doing great! Most people don't last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-th-that's not what I meant." _Of course that's not what you meant, that's silly. No-one could be dumb enough to die to a machine, even if they're most likely possessed. "_Uh, anyway I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight." _ Oh? Because it wasn't already bad enough?_

"Uh... Hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit, uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp. Then there's a chance that, uh, maybe they'll think that you're an empty costume instead. Then again if they think you're an empty costume, they might try to... stuff a metal skeleton into you. I wonder how that would work. Yeah, never mind, scratch that. It's best just not to get caught." Oh really. I never would have guessed. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that piece of fucking sage advice! May you continue to grace us with your wisdom for the rest of Time.

"Um... Ok, I'll leave you to it. See you on the flip side." I'll bet anybody a hundred bucks that this kid is gonna die by tomorrow night. Heh, maybe it'll be during the call! That'd be pretty damned funny, if you ask me.

I hung up the phone, turned around, and powered up my monitor. I hadn't found the time to figure out how to get the computer to display on my tablet, or even find out if it was possible in the first place, so I was stuck with that stupid, 80's era monitor, cursed once more to turn around should I need to close my door.

_**Ready for another night.**_

Things did indeed started getting real on my third night. Chica had already left the stage, and it was only 12:41.

I checked my cameras, she was nowhere to be seen. I heard noise coming through the wall separating me from the kitchen. _Wonder what she's doing in there_, I thought. _I'm going to have to figure out how to fix that camera, come Saturday. Might help whoever works the weekends, here._

I cycled back to the show stage. Both Bonnie and Freddy were staring at the camera, not moving. I got onto the loudspeaker, "Bonnie! Freddy! Stop acting like you belong in a horror movie! It is unbecoming of ladies such as yourselves," I said, then added, "that is all." _I feel awkward. Oh God, why did I _say _that?! "It is unbecoming"?! What the fuck, brain!_ I balled up in my seat, knees to my chest. "They're going to kill me," I muttered. "I pissed them off and they're going to kill me. I really wish I wasn't broke right now, or I would _so_ quit. I swear, if I don't get a fucking raise by the end of the week, or someone is getting punched in the face, and damn the consequences." I pulled my taser out of my bag, set it on the desk, and put my legs back on the floor. _Good God, this job is messing with my head. My emotions are _everywhere, _tonight._

Turning my attention back to the monitor, I made sure to check Pirate's Cove, like Mr. Phone Guy said. _Curtains are closed, nothing out of the ordinary. Good._

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Time, 3:51. 76% power. Chica is still fucking around in the kitchen, Bonnie is watching the left-hand door like it's going to open if she stares at it hard enough, and Freddy is in the east hall.

_**Freddy is in the east hall.**_

I closed the door. Why? Because fuck waiting for her to come closer, and fuck watching her. I want _none of that_, thank you very much.

A few minutes pass, and I notice that I am now at 70% power.

_**Shit.**_

I know exactly what that means.

That means that the wires in the door panel aren't properly grounded, and that they're bleeding precious electricity into the air. _Yet another thing I'm going to have to fix, come tomorrow. I should have taken my time fixing that door, damnit._ This is what I get for working when I'm angry.

I checked the cameras in the hall. Freddy was gone. I checked my door light. _Ah. There you are._ She stood in the hall, leaning her upper body into the window. I stood, went to the window, and waved at her, taser in held firmly in my other hand.

She didn't move.

I sighed, and said, "look, Miss, you're not getting in here, okay? I am not an endoskeleton, and you will not be stuffing me into any of those stupid suits of yours, am I clear?"

She blinked.

I continued my staring. _I will not fall for the same trick a third time, you fuckers._

The hall light flickered off for a fraction of a second, but apparently she had superspeed, or something, because she was gone by the time the light flickered back on.

_Then_ I blinked. Good _God_ these things are fast. I checked the cameras in the east hall, found it empty, and opened my door. That whole exchange hadn't lasted more than fifteen minutes, and now I was down to 47% power. _Let's see... that took about fifteen minutes or so, and I lost 29% of my total power. Jesus, that's basically 2% power for every minute I have that door closed._

_**That's not good. That's not good at **_**all.**

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

It was 5:19 when I noticed that Foxy had left the Cove. Freddy had moved into the bathroom, Chica was _still_ farting around in the kitchen, and Bonnie was hiding in the supply closet, acting as if I couldn't see her.

I had long since noticed that none of the bots move if I have my camera on them, so to say that I was surprised to see Foxy sprinting down the west hallway like the devil himself was hot on her heels would be a bit of an understatement. I may or may not have fallen out of my chair whilst screaming like a little girl. Yeah, not my proudest moment, that. At least I finally got a good look at her.

Take every female pirate you've ever seen in the movies, throw all the stereotypical features at an animatronic fox, and multiply. Penelope Cruz has big boobs? Hers are bigger. That one pirate chick no-one remembers the name of has an hourglass figure? She's hourglass-ier. That other chick that the second was with has a nice ass? Hers is nicer. Or at least it _used to be._ Now it looked as if she was coming apart at the seams (if robots even _have _seams, that is). Her body looked as though she had stood too close to a live grenade, and lived to tell the tale. Rips and tears adorned her whole body, head to toe- or paws, in this case. The worst of these tears were covered by white medical gauze, or, at least, that is what I assumed. If I had to guess, I would ping her at about 5' 10", maybe 5' 11".

Whilst I had been mentally assessing her, she had arrived at the door. It was closed. It had been closed all night, and it would continue to be closed tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, so long as nobody pushed the door control button.

_Bang bang bang._

Foxy is pounding on the door, frantically, it seems. _Almost as if she's trying to run from something... or _get _to something... interesting..._

_Bang bang bang._

I checked the time, and sighed. It was 5:21. Barely two minutes had passed since she started banging on my door, so I decided to greet her the same as I did last night, by shouting into the loudspeaker as loudly as possible.

_**"WHAT?!"**_ I snarled at the mic. Then I smirked, yelling like that felt strangely satisfying.

I watched the camera as I saw Foxy physically recoil from my shout, as if she had been struck by a car at high speeds. Her back slammed into the drywall opposite my door, and she fell limply to the ground. For a second I was actually worried for her, but then I remembered that she was a robot. Robots don't feel pain.

_**Robots don't **_**smile**_**, either.**_

I felt a sudden pang of guilt hit me right in the heart, and I quickly moved to check the other cameras before I was overwhelmed by it.

Chica was almost to my room, but the noise was still there, so assumed either Freddy or Bonnie were in there to cover for her.

The door slammed closed, and I went to the window to scold Chica, once again, for scaring me. I tapped the window- without turning on the light- to get her attention, and said, "I swear, Chica, you have _got_ to be doing this on purpose by now." I leveled my finger accusingly at the glass, the light still turned off. "Please, next time you want to see me, or whatever reason it is that you come down here, _please_, just knock. All I ask. Okay? Please, just knock on the wall next to the door, or something. I don't want to have to hurt you guys, despite how often you've scared me. Alright?" I turned on the light, and I was met with an empty hall.

The door opened.

I sighed. _I just pleaded with an empty hallway. Wow. That's really sad. _ I checked the power, 28%. Time? 5:53. One more hour.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

It was almost 7 o'clock before anything interesting happened. The entirety of the Fazbear Gang had been going in and out of the kitchen for the past thirty minutes, and I was pretty sure I could smell the smell of pizza being baked. _Apparently robots have to eat, too._ I heard the _beep!_ of an oven timer, and all noise in the building ceased. _Welp, that's not creepy at all. What's the time? 6:54? And I've still got 8% power! I'm fine._

The smell of pizza was coming closer, I could almost taste it. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything in a solid eight hours. _I'm going to have to bring some snacks, tomorrow... and some water, too; I'm absolutely parched!_ I checked the cameras on the east hall, nothing. West hall, same thing. _Where was the smell coming from, then?_

I turned on the door light, and saw Chica standing in the doorway, steaming pizza box in hand. I gave her my flattest of flat stares, and raised my eyebrow.

She didn't move.

I stood cautiously, grabbed my taser, and walked to my door, and slowly took the pizza box from her hands. As I stared into her glowing white eyes, I could have sworn that I saw the briefest flash of color. _Purple, I think._ I opened it, still staring at her, and when I determined that nothing was going to pop out of the box to kill me, I cast a quick glance down at the pizza within. It was beautiful. I looked up, and she was gone. The stone mask that had been my face shattered into a painful grimace, and I looked back down at the pizza.

It was a cheese pizza, but by God was it anything _but_ simple. It was a 10" (by my guesstimations) deep-dish. White cheese- mozzarella, I think- covered the top, sprinkled along the surface were various seasonings, of which I only recognized two: garlic, and something that looked suspiciously like oregano. The rest of it, I could only guess at. _What can I say? I certainly know my way around a kitchen, but this looks as if it was made by a professional._

_Now I feel like an ass..._

My watch beeped. It was time to go home.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

At my apartment, I was enjoying the last of the best cheese pizza I've ever had, and I happened upon a note, stuck under the last slice.

On the paper was one word, in a mechanical handwriting:

_**SORRY**_

_**Achievement Get! The Third Night**_

_**Achievement Get! i has a sad**_

**Author's Note: It has come to my attention that some of you are confused about the differences between the story and the game *cough* **_**wanderer**_** *cough cough*. I have changed things around for the sake of creative convenience, and will continue to do so. I only ask one thing, **_**please do not confuse my story with the game.**_

**In other news, we finally have our protagonist's name! Say hello to Jayson Reeves, everybody! We also see the beginnings of some subplots, and learn more about the world that Jayson lives in. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and I hope that you continue to enjoy it in the future. I should be updating again within the next day or two, but that won't always be the case. The holidays are coming, but I will do my best to trudge through them **_**and**_** keep up with my story, but I can't see the future.**

**TheDarkOn3, out.**


	4. New Friends

**Night's Guard -**

**Chapter IV **

"_Shiiiit,_" I groaned as I rolled out of bed. "I've got to make it up to her tonight, but with what?" Ever since I found that note under the pizza last night, I have been trying to figure out a way to make it up to Chica for all the times I scolded her (and when I pushed her, yesterday), but for the life of me, I can't think of anything to do for her!

I checked my wrist watch, 6:32 p.m. _Alright,_ I thought while I got on my jogging clothes, _screw this. I'm going for a run to clear my head. Hopefully I can think of something when I get back._ As I stepped out of my apartment I saw one of my many neighbors walking up the stairs, _fresh off from work_, I presume. We say our 'hello's and continue on our separate ways.

My usual route has been blocked up by some sort of construction project, so I circle around towards 17th, where the most commercial buildings are located. _Who knows, I might just find something for Chica while I'm there._..

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

A good five or so blocks later, I found myself turning onto 17th St. in the middle of rush hour. By God the streets were _packed_. _Well crap, I wasn't expecting this many people to be out._ Though, in hindsight, it _was_ the start of the holiday shopping season, _and_ it's about the time that normal people get off from work, so I suppose it's my fault for not paying attention. _Still, though, I'm not going to be able to run through this mess, and my wallet is still at the apartment... _

_Meh. I'll just have to settle for looking at things for now._

**« « / ^ \ » »**

Half an hour had passed, and I could hear my stomach growling angrily at me, unhappy about not getting breakfast. I sighed, and said to myself, "Oh well, better luck next time, I suppose."

"Who're ya talking to over there?"

Startled, I turned around to see a man wearing a baseball cap sitting on a bench. He was watching at me with a look of casual curiosity, and by his face I could tell that to him I was nothing more than a source of boredom relief. He just wanted a chat, so obliged, "I was just thinking out loud, nothing important."

He raised his brow, "That sure didn't sound like 'nothing important'," he huffed.

"Oh... You heard that?"

"Uh, yeah? Dude, I'm sitting right next to you, how would I _not_ hear you?" He had a point.

"Sorry, I'm just... _distracted_, I guess. You know, girl problems."

"Oh?" He seemed genuinely interested, now. "What did you do?"

Straight to the point. You don't see that too often these days._ Should I tell him? Eeeh... why not. He's just a stranger. I'll just have to keep it vague._ "I, uh, I... misinterpreted one of my coworkers' actions, and ended up scolding her about it. Multiple times. She apologized with the best pizza I've ever had, and now I feel like an ass because I don't know how to make it up to her for being a dick."

He clicked his tongue. "Oooh. That's bad- wait! You said she made you an awesome apology pizza, right?"

"Yeah...?" I said, confused. "I have no idea where you're going with this, though."

"Just bare with me, here. Okay, so I'm going to assume she's a good cook?" Another confused "yeah". "So why don't you get her some cooking supplies?"

I blinked.

_Why didn't_ _I __think of that?! That's _so_ simple!_ I told him so, "Wow. I feel retarded. Why didn't_ I_ think of that?"

"You're stressed. It happens. Nobody can solve every problem for themselves, and there are times when you need to allow someone else to help you. It's a fact of life."

"Huh," I said, looking up at the sky. "I guess you're- " I looked back down, and the man was gone. "...right."

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Two bags full of high quality pizza making material (flour, marinara sauce, freshly shredded mozzarella cheese, a new rolling pin, various seasonings, etc.) later, I was back in my apartment, feeling much better now that I had a gift for Chica. I was still going to apologize in person, but having a make-up present made me feel a Hell of a lot less guilty about the whole thing. And it only cost me the last of my 'entertainment' budget for the month.

Yeah, I budget my money. I'm fucking broke, what else do you expect me to do?

Moving on. It was now some time just prior to nine o'clock, and I was bored. "Let's see," I say to myself, as I examine my mental checklist. "Chores are done. Laundry's done. Vacuuming?" I look at the floor, and shrug. "I'll do it tomorrow." I look over to where I keep my work items, and remember that I wanted to look up a How To for connecting my tablet to the computer at Freddy's. "Oh yeah! Can't believe I forgot about that." I walk over to my desk, where my own computer is waiting. "Well," I say to myself as I sit down, "it's time to do some research!"

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

A few google searches and YouTube videos later, I had the Splashtop Remote Desktop™ (Created by Enterprise) app downloaded onto my tablet, and a USB drive with its counterpart computer program sitting in my pocket. _That was a lot easier than expected it to be, but hey, you're not gonna to see me complain about it._

I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the wonder that is modern technology. Just think, a mere _decade ago_, if I tried to do something like that with a computer, I would find that it wasn't possible. Just _one_ _decade ago_, there was no such thing as YouTube, smartphones didn't exist, Facebook didn't exist, and everyone thought the world was going to end in 2012.

_**How far we have come, and in such a short time, too! I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings.**_

Sorry, I'm a bit of a sci-fi fanatic. It's just so exciting, though! Think! By the next century, human mind will have mastered Genetic Modification! Oh, the implications for science! For medicine! For fashion! The things we could do with such technologies-

Sorry.

Again.

Genetic Engineering and Modification has been a fantasy of mine ever since I first learned about genes. But alas, it seems as though I won't be alive to see it come to pass. _Oh well, a man can always dream..._

_Where were we? Oh, right, I was explaining that I had everything set for the computer-to-tablet connection tonight._ Right. I looked down at my wrist. _And it's not even nine thirty..._

Time to fart around on the interwebs.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

11 o'clock rolls by, and I turn off my pc. I need to get to work extra early if I'm going to give Chica her gift, get the tablet app installed, _and _fix that damned door. _For the third time_, might I add.

I gather my things, don my 'SECURITY GUARD' hat, and head out.

It's 11:23 by the time I put my challenger in park, and Freddy's is just about to close for the night (they shut the place down at around 11:30, most nights). I am greeted by some of the staff as I come in, and I give them my customary two-finger salute as I pass. The faulty wiring in the door panel is my first concern, and a good ten minutes later it's good to go.

Now that the place has been cleared of customers, I went into the kitchen to set up Chica's present. The cook that was in there with me was looking at me strangely, but he didn't say anything about what I was doing, so I ignored him in favor of making sure that Chica would notice my offering as soon as she walked into the kitchen. I made sure to leave a note detailing how sorry I was, and that this was to make up for any bad blood still between us. By the time I was finished, everyone else had already clocked out and headed home. They had left me to turn off the lights.

I did so, and walked into my office. Time? 11:50. _Not bad, _I thought to myself,_ not bad at all._ "Okay," I sighed, "it's time to see if Windows '87 is compatible with this app." It was not. I sighed again. _Oh well, at least I tried._

I went about unpacking my bag, setting my taser, some snacks, and a bottle of root beer on the desk. I also brought out my electric lamp, which had miraculously come back to life yesterday morning. I set it on the table opposite my desk, which is where I put my dad's old toolbox as well.

My watch beeped, so I turned on the monitor, closed the door, and waited for my next call.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

_Ri-i-i-ing! _

_Ri-i-i-ing!_

_Ri-i-_

I picked up the phone.

"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it." _Thanks, bro._

"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow.- _bang bang bang bang_- It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you- _eckhumn_- uh, when I did." _You aren't actually about to die, are you? Look, man, what I said yesterday was a joke! I liked you! You're not supposed to die!_

"Uh, hey, do me a favor.- _bang bang bang_- Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room?- _bang bang bang_- I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad.- _bang bang_- Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there." Somewhere in the background, a disturbingly creepy chime starts playing.

"You know..."- "_Uuhhng"_- "oh, no- " A commotion can be heard, and then, "_**SCREEEEECH**_- " The line went dead.

"Good God," I said, shocked. I hung up the phone. _I am definitely going to check on you, nameless Phone Guy. Just... not tonight. Tonight I need to be on the top of my game, 'cause I do_ not_ want to die here._

I checked my essentials. Time, 12:28. Power, 99%. Cameras, Bonnie was in the broom closet (again), Freddy was staring at the camera from on stage, and Chica was outside my door. I casually whirled around in my swivel chair, and stood to greet her. When I clicked on the light, I immediately noticed a difference in her appearance. She had violet eyes. Actual, honest-to-God eyes! And she seemed to be holding herself differently, though, what that difference was, I couldn't tell.

"Did you, ah... did you see my little peace offering?" I asked awkwardly.

She nodded.

I blinked at her, _so she's moving when I can see her, now? Eh. So long as she doesn't try to kill me..._

I notice that she seems to be fighting very hard to keep a smile from her beak, so I ask the obvious question. "So... no hard feelings?" She shakes her head. "We're cool now?" She nods once more, before breaking into a big grin, and sweeping me into a hug.

Dear _God_, is she soft! I think, as I am quite literally swept off my feet, and swung back and forth in the air, her bosom squeezed into my face. After a few moments of this I realize that I can't breathe, and I tap Chica's shoulder to signal her to stop. She doesn't seem to notice, so I tap harder, and that seems to do the trick. She releases me, and I fall back down onto the floor.

I take a few moments to regain my breath, before noticing something behind her. Freddy is standing further down the hall. There seems to be a problem with her head, because I can see it twitching violently even from here. I can also hear a low muttering coming from her direction. She started towards us. _Nope! _ I think to myself, _all aboard the Nope Train, to FUCK THAT-Ville!_ _Population, me._

I grab Chica's arm and pull her into my office, and then I close the door. I turn to my new guest, who seems to be staring at me in shock. "Don't open that door for anyone, you hear me?" I said, pointing out the door controls. "If you do, I'll be forced to call this whole 'friendship' thing off, alright?" She nods. I breathe a sigh of relief, "Thanks. Sorry if I'm a bit snappy, by the way, it's just that working here has been really stressful so far. And..." I pause. "And I'm sorry for being so short with you, earlier in the week. I thought you were all mindless robots, back then, I didn't consider that you might have feelings too."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, before I spoke up, "Hey, um, by any chance, are you be able to speak?" She shakes her head "no". "Damn," I pause, before thinking up another question, "Do you know why that is? As to why you can't speak, I mean." She pauses, and then mimes something, or some_one,_ ripping out her vocal chords. _Ouch._ I grimace, and continue, "Do you know who did this to you?" A nod. "Do you know their name?" A no. "Was it one of the Venitts brothers? You know, the two fat guys who run the place during the day?" Another no. "A customer?" No. "Was it another employee?" She pauses, and then shakes her head no. I pause to think for a moment. _So if it wasn't a customer, and it wasn't any of the staff... could it have been-_

_BANG BANG BANG._

"Oh, give me a break!" I shout at the ceiling. Turning to Chica, I gesture towards my chair, and pull it out for her. Proper manners, and all that. Seeing the frightful look in her eyes, I explained, "That's Foxy. I'm pretty sure she's mad at me for accidentally knocking her out last night- "

_**BANG BANG BANG**__._

"Yep," I continued, "definitely mad. Give me a second to apologize to her, alright?" Chica gives me a thumbs up. "Thanks."

_BANG BANG BANG._

I tapped on the window, trying to get Foxy's attention. I clicked on my electric lamp, too, so I could see outside without wasting power. She was stood in the middle of the window, wearing a heavy frown. _Huh,_ I thought, _she seems to be acting normally. Maybe Freddy is just malfunctioning...?_ In the light, I could tell that my previous assumption of her height was incorrect, and I would now say that she was closer to 6' 7" or 6' 8", easily beating Bonnie out of her spot as the tallest; I also took note that her eyes were a beautiful shade of scarlet red. _Very pretty. _We stared at each other for a good minute or two before I tried saying anything. "Um, hi, Foxy. Uh, about last night, I'm, uh, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. I had no idea that you would react the way you did, and if I had, I wouldn't have done it. Is there some way I could make it up to you?" She seemed to be pondering this, tapping her book against her chin, before she suddenly lifted it into the air. I shit you not, an actual lightbulb _ding!_-ed on above her head, and a wolfish grin worked its way onto her face.

_**Uh oh.**_

That smile dropped, however, when she opened her mouth to speak, only to be met with a mechanical groan and a few sparks jumping through a hole in her throat. It quickly came back again, and she lifted a finger at me in a clear gesture of "hold on a sec!" I looked confusedly back at Chica. She shrugged. I shrugged back, and turned around to see Bonnie staring at me through the window. I can proudly say that I only flinched, this time! Bonnie seemed to be malfunctioning much like Freddy was, head spasming creepily, muttering quietly to herself, and I could very faintly hear what she was saying.

".͘͘͝.̶̸̸.t̶a̢ķ͝e̕͞n̴̵.̷̀.̶̕.̵̛ ̶̀t̀ǫơ̡k̡͢ ţ́h͜͡e͢m͘҉.̵̕.̸.͡ ḩ́ę ̡t̵͘͢o̶̢̕ó̷̴k ̷̵̶t̶͟͡h̀e҉̴m͝͠.͟͏.̵.͘͜͝ ̧͝t͢a͘͠k͡eǹ͜ ͠f̧͘͡ro͠m̶͠ ̕͟͠Hi̧m.̛́҉.҉͢.̡̛ ̧t͟o̸̶̢ớk.̧̕.̵̷͢.͠ ͝h͝͡e ̸̢͟to̷̡͢ǫ͜k̶͘ ̸t̴ḩ̷͡eḿ͞...͡ t́he..y̸..͝ .̧͏ţa͘k̸e̛n̢ ͡f̢̀͜ró͠m̕...͞͠͏"

"Welp," I said. "That's not foreboding at all. Who is this 'Him'? Who was taken...?"

My lamp exploded. Not violently, of course, it's only electric, but explode it did. It was dark once more. "God damn it. I knew it was too good to be true for my lantern to just miraculously start working again like that, but I didn't think _this_ would be the consequence. At least that little lightbulb up in the ceiling is reliable, despite its shittyness." I took notice that the muttering had stopped.

I clicked on the door light, to see Foxy blinking confusedly at my newly deceased lantern. I waved it off, saying, "it's okay, I don't think that the lamp liked us very much, anyway. Now, what was it you want me to do for you?" She held up a piece of paper, on it were the words, 'CLEAN UP MY STAGE' in big flowing text. I've got to hand it to the girl, she has some fantastic penmanship. I nod. "I can do that, definitely! Just... not tonight. You know, because there's two of you guys that still want to kill me." Both Chica and Foxy just cocked their heads at me, so I elaborated, "you know, stuff me into a suit, like yours? I don't know if you're aware of this, but I am not an endoskeleton. I am a human. If you were to stuff me into one of those suits of yours, it would kill me. _I would die_. Humans aren't meant for that."

They just stood there, looks of abject horror and disgust slowly growing upon their faces.

Chica was very quick to pull me into another hug. I can only assume that this was an apology hug, and I could feel her crying, silent, so I hugged her back, and said, "Hey, hey, it's alright. You didn't know any better, okay? You're not going to hurt me. I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine, okay?" I felt her nod over my shoulder, and I looked up to see Foxy watching us, looking forlorn, so I pushed the door control open, and beckoned for her to join the hug. She did so, albeit reluctantly, and I closed the door behind her. "Everything's going to be fine."

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

We stayed like that until morning came. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep, at one point, but it wasn't for long. I have no clue how we didn't run out of power, but I wasn't going to question it.

"_**Have Faith", He says.**_

Bonnie and Freddy were back on the stage, inactive, when I led Foxy and Chica back to their proper places. I said my goodbyes, told Foxy I'd be in at around seven to start cleaning up, and headed home once more.

_**Achievement Get! The Fourth Night**_

_**Achievement Get! Make Amends**_

_**Achievement Get! Shit Gets Real**_

_**Achievement Get! hugz plz**_

**Author's Note: Things are going down at Freddy's, and everything's about to get twisted to all Hell. Jayson has made two new friends, tonight, and possibly angered a spirit or three, but that's not going to stop him from, KEEPING CALM AND WORKING AT FREDDY'S. That's right. I got myself a cover! Yeah! Keep being awesome, you guys.**

**Dark, out.**


	5. Murphy's Law

**Night's Guard -**

**Chapter V**

For the first time since I've started working at Freddy's, I was not plagued by nightmares when I went to sleep last night. It was 5:39, Friday afternoon, and I was feeling better than I had in years, when my cellphone decided to make itself known to the world. Now, most people probably have some sort of catchy tune for their ring tone, I do not. I have a phone that_ rings_; you know, like they're supposed to.

I picked it up, noticed the lack of caller ID, and put it to my ear. "Hello?" I asked into the phone. "Who is this?"

A woman's voice answered, "Hello, is that you, Jay?"

I frowned. "This is he. Who is this?" I asked again.

"Come on, Jay, it's me! Chelsea! We talked a few days ago, at Freddy's, remember?"

_Chelsea. Hmm. Nope, don't know anybody named Chelsea._ I told her so, over the phone.

She sighed, and I had the distinct impression that I had disappointed her, somehow, "Really? I was the waitress, the one who told you about your stuff?"

"Oh! That was _you!_" I exclaimed. "You never really gave me your name, you know, but that's okay. So, ah... what's up?"

"Mr. V wants to see you about something," she said. "He said that it's important, and he wants you here right away."

"Cool. Uh... how exactly did you get my number, anyways?"

She giggled. "Mr. V gave it to me, silly! How else would I be able to call you?"

"Um, the phone book?"

"Pshaw! No one uses phone books any more." A pause. "Oh, I've got to get back to work! I'll see you in a bit, bye!"

I tapped my screen a few times, saved Chelsea's contact to my phone, and started my morning rituals. A good thirty minutes later, I was dressed, had eaten breakfast, and taken a shower (because despite the softness of Chica and Foxy, they both stank something fierce), so I headed out the door.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

I pulled into Freddy's in the middle of the dinner rush. It was just about six thirty when I walked inside. Freddy and the crew were on stage, playing the latest pop in music (_bleck_), and I was almost overwhelmed with how _packed_ the place was. Every single chair and table in the entire room had been occupied, and the pizza-pickup line on the other side of the room was stretched almost to the door. _Jesus Christ. I've never seen so many people at this place at one time!_ _ I bet this is why Mr. Venitts wanted me here, he probably needs someone to supervise._

As I search the room for one of my bosses, I see Chica wave at me from on stage. I wave back, and smile at her. I am interrupted, however, by someone clamping their hand down on my shoulder. I turn, and see Jake watching me with a smile in his eyes.

"Sayin' hi to the crew, eh?" He says, "You figure it out, then?"

I blinked at him. "Figure out what, sir?"

"I had hoped ye woulda..." he sighed. "Never mind, lad."

_Okay then._ "So... what is it you wanted me for?"

He waved his arms around the room. "Ya see all these people, boyo?" I nod. "We need ya on the cameras, watchin' everybody. We'll pay ya time 'n a half for every hour yer here before yer shift starts." _Welp. That's all the incentive that_ I_ need! Also, I totally called it._

"Done!" I nearly shout. "When do you want me to start?"

"Right now," he said, I almost missed his chuckle as he walked away.

I walked up to Pirate's Cove, and stuck my head through the curtain. I couldn't see a thing, but that didn't matter. "Hey Foxy," I called into the dark, "just wanted to let ya know that the boss has me working overtime, right now. I'll try to get to cleaning up in here before my shift starts, okay? Okay. See ya later!"

When I pulled my head out of the curtain, I noticed that Chelsea had her eyebrow raised at me from clear across the room, curious amusement in her eyes. I waved at her, pretending that nothing had happened.

I clocked in, and made my way to my office.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Three hours later, the rush was finally died down, so I clocked out and shut everything down. Then I found Jake, and told him so. I also told him that I had lost a bet, and had to go clean up Pirate's Cove as punishment. Which, I suppose, is kind of true, in a way... sort of. He was fine with it, surprisingly, and told me to be careful.

Two trips to the storage closet later, I had a broom, a dustpan, some disinfectant wipes, a roll of paper towels, and various spray cleaners (and bleach) all arrayed on the floor in Pirate's Cove. It was approaching ten o'clock, so I had to hurry to get this done before Foxy came back online.

I observed the room I was in, having previously found the switch for the stage lights on the back wall. On center stage, there sat a pirate ship, it took up the entirety of the stage from left to right, I would say that it was about as big as your average car is long. It was almost as tall as I was, _and that wasn't even including the mast!_ To the sides were various props and accessories typical to any stage. Painted plywood was used for props like waves, and islands, and palm trees. White clouds hung by ropes from the ceiling. Various pieces of pirate treasure were littered about the ground, and dust clung thickly to every surface.

_Good God,_ I thought,_ this place is a mess! No wonder why Foxy wanted me to it clean up._

I made one more trip to the supply closet to grab a dust rag, and started cleaning house.

**« « / ^ \ » » **

A solid hour and a half later, I stood proudly upon the bow of the ship- Captain Morgan style- observing the completely spotless room. No dust. No detritus. Nothing had escaped my incredible cleaning skills. _When you live with two slobs as roomies in college, you either get really good at cleaning shit, or you join them. _I did not want to join them in their grossness, so instead I cleaned their shit. And by cleaned their shit, I mean I incinerated any and all laundry that was left on the floor, and I always made sure to leave every piece of trash of theirs I found on either of their beds. _What can I say; I'm a cruel sonofabitch._ Let it be known that I have an extremely good eye for detail, which is why I found messing around with electronics so interesting, I suppose. That same eye for detail is what gives me my incredible cleaning prowess, as what I lack in experience, I can make up for in zeal.

I haven't seen Foxy the entire time I've been cleaning, and I can only assume that she's in the ship, somewhere. So, with that in mind, I knock on the floor of the ship (I know for a fact that there is a proper term for that, but I cannot for the life of me, figure out what it t), hoping to get an answer. I was disappointed to hear only silence, though, but it was only 11:36, so I suppose I shouldn't complain. I stuck a post-it note on the mast saying,'YOU'RE WELCOME' and then, below that, 'KNOCK ON THE DOOR IF YOU'VE READ THIS' I jumped off the bow, started gathering up my cleaning supplies, and trekked them back to the closet. That done, I clocked back in, and made my way to my office for another night of work.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

It's 12:02 when something unexpected happens.

The phone starts to ring.

I stare at it for a moment, be for clicking the door closed, and picking up the phone.

"-̻̝͔͓̼̼̬͈̦̝͛̓͋̾͜͞͞ę̬͔̟̻̲̭̪̳̪̬̈́͆ͨ͗̉́͘ͅv̸̞̥͚͚̖͖͙̞̾ͦ̋̆ͪ̎͌͗̎͛͐͟͝͡͠ȉ̸̢̮͓̱͖̥̞͖͍̤̙̪̝̠̱ͩ̃̏́̿̊ͯ̓͆͠t̢̼̟̝̠̼̙̦̙͓̝̩̬̠̜ͤͪ̚̕a̶̢̢͚̮͇͎͚͍̼͚̪͓̰͖̞̥̲͍̫͍ͬ̏̎ͩ̆̃̽ͅę̶̩͈̠͕̣͔͎͓̖̥̩̟͉͚̜̖̅ͥ̌̚͟ͅr̢̨͓̲͔͓̰̞͎͍͇̤̭͐̏́̃͊̆ͩ͆ͣ̐͗ͤͨͨ̋͘͞ͅcͤ̈ͤ̒ͯͧ̒͗̉̽̕҉̹͉̝̲̜͇̦̫̦̞͇̳̪͇̺͚̮ͅ ̒̂̏̊ͮ̓͠҉̭̲̹̰͔̭̺̱̦̥͙͖̥͙̖͟ͅͅf̳̼͖̦̦̫̍̓̓̏̍ͩ̒ͯ̒̑ͩ̀́͞͡o̡͉̹̤͍̟͙̖̞̠̩̹̐̆͛͒͒ͩͬ̀̏ͤ̿͊̇ͯͣ̉̑ͩ ͉̝̤̗̲̳̞̜͎͉̘̯̒ͦͪ̽͘y̋̏̑ͩ̎̅͌ͪ̉̓ͬ̆̈́ͤ̔҉̷̪͈̦̳̻̯̹͉̝̺̺̩͙͇̦̙͟ŏ̷̢̡̺̩̟̹̭̫̩̳͉̥͕̞̼̺̩̩̮̤̎͗͋̿͛ͭͩ̉̕ͅj͑ͨ̓ͫ̐ͬ̆͗̆ͣ̾́ͥ̐ͪ̽͋̕͠҉̧͓̖̺͔͙̭̖͔̟̼̯̙̼̲̣ ̷̵̸̪̹͔̱̮̦̖̼͈̮̠̹̺͕̼̫̯̤́̀́̿̿̅̃̆̓ͫͣ̾̀̿̀e̢͚͇͖̙̞̋͂̿̃̎͐͛͊̅̿͋̋̎ͯ̿͜͞͡ḩ̬̲̥͇͍̯̮̙̗͉̙̫͙̭̮͎͗́̆̇͆̉ͭ̽̉͆́̕͡͠ţ̴͔̤̖͙͌ͣͭ́ͫ̑̓̎̇͋ͩ̏̃͆̍̚̚͜͡-̡͛̆͛͌̐͐ͣ͞҉̥̬̠ͅ ̌̍̾͋̋̾ͭ̚҉̫͙̺̻̺͉̹̦̹͚ͅ~̅̿ͪ̏͋ͪ́ͦ̓ͨ̆̿̑͗̀́̈́҉̸̧̼̞̲̱̝̠͓͎̥̹͚̘̥͈̯͝~̨̬͎̬͎͔̮̮̲̫̼͔͎͖̠͕͕ͥ̅ͩ̌̔͐ͬ̄̃͗ͮ̄͠͠͞ͅͅ~̷̵̳̮͇͈͕̰̻̟̘̲͓̰̱̿̌̾̾̎͐͒̍͛̉ͦͪ̓͊̋̚̚͘͠ ̴̴͚̠͕͍̩̟̯̻̜͈̩̗̙̩̿͐ͪ́͟-̡̩͎̗̼͊͋̐̉̄̅͂̽͛̾̾ͬ̿̌͒ͨ͘sͥ̆̂̑̓ͭ̃͠҉̵̧̲̲͎͙͎̟̥̟̥͙̯̮͙u̸̦̘͍͈͉͖̲͕͍̭̙̣͓̽̏ͨ̉̔̉̍͌ͨͣ̒̇ͯͫ̈́̒̈̕ͅͅõ̶̮̼̜̟̦͔̝̓ͧ̔́͞e̟̥͓͈̣͚̻̗͚͇̰͔̫̖̹̮̠̹ͬ̽̏͗ͫͣͦͮ̚̕͘͞n̵̢̢͕̦̯̘̩̦̻̭̠̹͎̱̹̥̭̻͚̣͈̈́͗̾͗͒͢a̺̖̟͔͈͔̹̰ͨ̉ͥ̈́̄͐̒͋̏́ͅͅŗ̳̫͚͙͔̪͙͙̪̭̻͎͍̟̺̲ͨ̾ͪͭ̋̅̌̄̒̈́͂̇͢ō̸̴ͪ͐̔̄̐͊͑̚͏̨̺̹̗̺̻̻p̵̷̨͈̮͇͙̱̞͍̥̜̰̘͔̠̫̓̂̆͛͌̒̉͑̍́ͅͅm̴̨̛̼̲̬̳̎̾̿̋̄̔̈͋ͤ͋̇͒̔͋̄̎ͯ̀͠e͂͌̍͌̓̓ͤͦ̄ͯ̀͝͏̶͉̯̫̱̟̞̺͙̬͖͎̘͉͍̜̝̲͟ͅͅţ̴͇̟̙̻̣̺͙̻̱̞̭̫̜͇͕̖̬̋ͯͮͦ͒͑n̸̷̛̤̳̖͕̗̣̼̖̾̄ͥ̈͌͊̃̏ͥ͋ͬ̈́̓̎̉ͣ͑̚o̷̵̡̩̦̖͍̳͕̞̲̭͗ͥ͒̿ͨ̕͡ć̷̡̬̮̺̬͍̹̭̫͙̻̦̰̦̼͚̮̘̠͊̒͌͌͂̔͡ ̸̷̜̠͍͙̳̜͉̣̺̮̼̤͈̲͙̦̂͋ͮ͊́̑ͦ̈́ͫ̀͋ͬ̒͝s͔̖͚̫̬̪ͯ̊͛̀̽̎͛ͦ͌̓̃́̕͠͠͞wͩ͋ͬ̽̋ͣͫͣͥ̅ͬ̒͒ͨͭ͑҉̰̜̤͈͓̞̘͍̫͕̘̞̼͉͜͡o̷͉͚̜͓̬̳ͫ͊͗̑ͭ͐͛̉̈n̨̤͓̦͈͕͇̞̥̩̣̤͕̅̄ͮ̌̍ͥͭ̒̓̓̊̎ͭ͋́̄ͥ̕ͅͅk̢̡̢̲͔͖̬̺̮̖̦̭̦̺͓͖͚̀̓̇̆̒͌͊̍ͫ͛̓̏ͅͅ ͙̼̖͍͉̳͔̼̭̊̇͆͗͌̋̽̓̅́͜͟͡m̴̵̡̬͉͕̠̥̌̅̇̋̊̉̊̒͌̽̃ͤ͆ͅo̴͉̱̤͔͈̮̼͖͓̼̬͐ͩ͆̓́ͣͩ͞d̯̼͈̙̼͓̰̜̽͌ͥ̍͊͋ͮ͢͡ļ̶̵̝̫̜͚̻̟̤̻̦̫͚̬̤̰͕ͧ͗̓̉̑ͭ͋ͭͧ͒̇̔̓̊̾ͯ́̓͛̀͠ḛ͍̱̪̗͚͎̪͇̮͇̉̇̒ͣ̃ͫ̓ͩ̚͜͝͝s̷̡̨̗̜̤̯̲̒̈́̈̊ͨ̔̓͑͜-̧͚͕̯͓̻͕̭̪͗̎̽ͤ ̺̬̮̙͚̤͎̞͕͕͇̻̼͇͇͍ͩͧͪ̒̋̒̎͒̐͑̅͋͌ͧͮ͟͜͠͠ͅ~̦̪̘͈͔̱̘͖̩̦̝ͪ̐ͮ͑͆ͭ̑͑͆͌̀̽ͨͪͩ̎̀͠~̂̋͋̾̇͘͠҉̸̝̰̱̥͔~ͭͩ̐͑̇̋ͯ̉̔҉̢͏̬̘̺͚̹̹͙̮͙̼͖̘͔̯͓͠ͅ ̌̎̔ͭ͒ͣ̄̏̕҉̴҉̧͖̖̼͙-͛̓̉ͤ̅̑̆̍ͦ̌̈́̀̐͋͠҉̫̬̪̯̠̮̘̱̟̺͉r͙̥̰̙͚̣̠̣̖̜̣̳̍̃̓ͪ̓ͪ͊̈ͩ̽̄̎ͩ̐ͬͤ͘ę̯͙̙̳̺̩͓̬̦͕̳̹͍̰̼̼͓̻̐̑̋̐͐͜ň̛͆̂̅͋͆͛͋ͩ́̌ͦ͑͢͠͏̫̺̤̬̲̙̼ę̯͓̦͖̲̣̖̠̋̅ͫ͊ͦ͆͜͞͝͡gͯͫͮ̊̂ͣ̐̂̇ͬ̒͏̡͙̘͉̗̹̻̯̹̣̲͎̱̲͠ ̷̘̣̗̤͕̻̩̮̦̌ͪ̂͐́̓̐̽̽ͬ̇́̎̾̽̐ͧ̚ẹ̠̰̭͍̤̤̮̥̊ͩ͊̒ͩͨ̾͜͠ͅͅr̵̘̥͔͈̳͕̪̗͉̟͓͖̫̟̊̀̈́ͭ̆̄̆̾̽̎̍̆ͮ͑͊̌͜͡ứ̷̧̢̯̰̯̠͔̯͓̦̝͑̋̔͆ͫ̋͊̋ͥ̎̅̓̈̔̿̂ͫ̎͘t̨̉̋ͪ̆ͤ͊̋ͣ̈́̉͞҉̢̟͍̝̱͠ų̸͇̳̤̳̱̱̮̤̤͈̖̝̥͖ͤͩͥ̍̈͊̈ͧͭͨ͋̀ͨ́̕fͯ̆ͩͦ͑̄͋ͭ͑͏̦̙̙͚̗̜͇ ̢̧̢͉̭̲̺̖̳͉̳͚͚̯̞̙͙͚̟̳̐͑̎̽͌͊͝y̷̷̸̛̪̲̹̮͈̙̜̓̔ͩ̌̓b̢̛̪̪͔̳͙̜͙͎͖̏̈́̽͑͒ͪ̋̊́̄͟ ̛̻͈̦̠̯͌̈̌̿̈́́ͧ̔ͪͭ̑́èͫͭͯ҉͜͡͏̯̮̫͙̯̲̯̤̺̮d͆͊̓͐̑̋̃ͭ͂ͫ̽ͮ̓̌͂̚̚͡͝҉̦͙̟̯ͅa͇͕̻̰͕̤͓̤̦͚̫͈̥̼̪͇̐ͭ͆̉̌̓̏̈͗ͩ͗̒ͤ̇̀m̴̡͍͖̝͇̦̪͎̩̮̩͗̊̂̈͗ͭ̊͋̋͜ ̨̡̮̟̭̮͇̹̮̺̣̳̘͋͆͋̆ͯ̄͂ͥ́ͅe͛͆̓̊̓̂̈́ͦ͒̈̐ͫ͐̃̿ͫ̚҉̡͕͖̳͕̟͕̝̘̫̣́b̸̠̻̞̺̹͔͙̘̖̙͕͙̠̯̗̰̰̗͎̊̈́̌̋ͣ̄͗͌ͭ̽́ͯ̓̽͒̐̍ ̥͓̘̎ͦͦ̀͋ͪ͌ͭ̾̾͌̀̃̆͂͡l̴̯̼̞̼̬̣̼͇͎̱͙̤̪͖̗̈̓ͬͤ̃̀͘͟l̴̘͖̫̘̥̞̞͎̦̲̟͛ͥ̓ͥ͆ͭ̑̈́̔̈́ͬ̊͜ḯ̸̴̧̝͈͓͍ͬ͌̈͊ͦ̋͋͜͡w̷̢͖̯̺̰͚̏̄ͬ̿̔ͮͫ̔͡-̡̨̻̝̟͍̠͖͇͈͕͙̼͉̥̦̺̤̜̺ͨ̒̓͂̅͞ ̴̧̟̹̝̱̩̬̪̘̹̟̥͆̾̈́̈́̈ͣ̉̇̓ͥ̉ͨ̄̒̃ͩͨ̎͘͝͝~̌̒̑̒̾̋ͫ̓͐͆͋ͯͯ̄͏̢̢̧̢̥̳̺̰~̸̢͙̤͎̤͓̰̯̬̮̝͉̹̮̭̹̞̜ͯͦ̓̆̈̈ͬ̎ͭ̅̐̄ͯ̀ͫ̀ͪ̚~̵̴̧̹̘̖̬̻̼̣̟̥͚̻̲ͬͧ͐̉ͪ̚͢ ̶̢̘̗̖͗̍̋̇̈̓͑͗ͥͩͨͣ́ͮͥ̊̈͑͌͠-̟̩̹͎̺̮̙̠̼̜͔̼͙͗͊͊̄̓̔ͯ͛ͯͨ̽̎ͣ͊̍͊́̕s̵̯͔͈͔̗͕̩͉̼͚̣̔̆̔̃̅̔̽̈́̐͂̈́̊ͮͅę̵̎̽̽ͮ͊̾̊̍̓̚̚͠͏͇̜͔̬̬͖̩͉̥͇̣̘̠̼̖͖̠ş̟̭͖͖̫͉̣̓ͫ͋ͮ͌̋̓ͬ͜ͅu̾̽ͭ̋ͪ͑͐ͯͭ̿͌̉̎͏̸̢̛̫͚͓̭̜͖͙̰͇̦̭͓̟͙͠ͅͅ ̵̷̴̝͎̘̙̹͎̩̮ͧ̑̏͒ͩͦ̍ͦͫ̋͂͆̓̚̚s̶̪̦̯̘̣͙̺̱͚ͮͬͭ̿̕͠͠͠s̱̩͕͚̼̱̭̭̹̃ͨ͋̕͜͢͡ͅe̛̊̌ͧ̐̆̌̅̒ͪ̈͏̧̬͉̼̠͇͇̬̼l̬͙̳̊͑ͣ̆̓̑̅ͤͯ̆̇̋ͥ͡͞͞ṭ̶̶̨͚̙̘̭̪̱̳̮̲̣̹̈́̊ͥ͋͑̔̓ͧͭ͌͛̀͢n̛̟̺̼̭͎̳͎̣̰̑̊̈̿̓͆̄́̚͘ͅͅȗ̹̦̦̻̹̬̬̯̣ͪ̇͐̔̔̍́̋͑ͩ͛͂ͯ͊̿͒̅̉͜o̴̷͈͚̣̤͛̋̇͑ͩ͂́̊͆̔ͥ́͂̾̓̃ͩ́͡C͒̉̒́̓͌̾͂̂ͫ̆͏̨̛̭̗̖͓̟͚͝ ̶̨̱̦̫̤̫͎͗͛ͧͭͣ͑̊̑̈́̓̅͊͊͐ͨ͐͡.̳̠̭̗̬͙̠̤̦̰͓͎͉̳̯̍ͬ̈́̑̈̐̕t̵̰̠̩͚̦̤͈͚̘̺̹̱̩̺̼͖͉ͧ̐̌ͮ͂͌ͦ̄͂ͨ̀ͤ͋̊ͣ̀͝͞͡h̺̰͈̼̹ͨͤͮ͂ͭͤ̊ͧ̾̀̕͢͜g̴̸̨͚̞̜͚͑͊̍̓́̂͗̄̊͒͆͂ͧ̍͑̄͑̎ͨi̧͂ͩͩͦͪ̔̓ͦ̑̆̚͏͏̛̤̯̫̪͕̻̺͇̙͖͔̫̫ṛ̶̸͓̲̺̙̙̺͋ͯ͌ͭ̉̅̓̓͆ͥͣ̐́̀́ ̓͑ͣͮ̇̉͜҉̱͎̜̤e̩͇̜̖̻̘̮͍̎ͭ͛ͦ̒ͥ̀̂̈́ͦ̾ͨ́̀̕͜r̷̢̞͙̩̜͍̬̜̩̭̫͎̳̖͎̜̜̥͖͆̋ͤ̄͘͞͞a̷̡̹̩͙͔̐̐ͤ̿ͧ̌̏́͂̂̈̓̇̂̚͘͢ ̴̨͓̜̩͚̗͓̄̇ͥ̑̚͘͠u̶ͭ̆͐ͯͭͬ͆̆̂ͬ̀͡͏̻̻͓͎̦͕̗̗̲̦̝ͅo̸̷̷̻̖̙͕̲̯͎ͫ̍͑ͣͦ͡Y̵̷̛͙̰̗̮̤͓̦͈͎̬̥̻̩̦̝͈̟ͤ̓͂̑̒ͯ͑͊ͮ͊͊̈́ͣ̎ͣ̈̏̕" _What the fuck?_

̴̸̢̦̥͔͖̞̫͋̒̍̿̍̈̅͋ͨ̏̇͊̍̎̈̎́͞"͚?̧̧̢͍̙͉̲̉͒̅̆̏̍͛̄ͭ̽̚͢͠ḩ̶̵̯̥̤̼͍̮̄ͦͥ̅̎͛̈́ͦ̇̓̓ͬ͊̑͝t̮͎͍͔̙͉͚̥̘̣̰̰̥̤ͤ̂̂̅͌̓̾̌̔ͪ́̔͆ͧ̚͘w̶̡̝̮̠̯̻̪͖̪̘͍̝̺̍ͦͮ͊͌̓̌ͯ̌͊ͥ͊̈́͘o̶̶͓̜̰͖̣͙̺͕̩̖̠͚̪̹͒̿ͣ̀̄ͤ̂ͦ̆ͪ̋ͨ̋ͪ̒r̷̛̛͂̀̊ͬͪ̎̇́҉̺̪̘͚͔̮̘̮̙̖̫̘͔̗̹̀ͅg̷͍̞̠̩͓̮̜ͥ̆̿̔͊́́͜͝ ̾͋͋̌ͤ̈́ͩ̀̿́͛̐͌̃̉͆̑ͪ̚͏̷̛̻͓̬̘̥̕t̵̴̢͚̝̗̱̫͕͓̦̺͉̗͓̻̭̥̝̅̏̑̽͆ͥ̚͞ņ̶͈̲̖̞͙̰͉͕͖̖͉̺͙̙̞͕̳̪ͩ̀͒ͯͯ̃̈́̃̓ͦ̊̈́̀̀ͅa̵̶̛̩̺̗̺̘̤̘̰͙͇͈͍ͩͧ̍̒ͣ̎͑ͨ̓ͪͧ̅ͮl̸̨̳̬̭̥̥̞͖̟͔̘̲̬͚͌̃ͣ̆ͤ̋ͤ͝p̶͕̬͙̮̣͙̝͍͗̃̆͒̀ ̸̜͇̙͍͓̖̹̻̯̤͔̺ͣ̐̋͒̅̿̐̾ͩͥ͛ͯ͒̅ͥ̿́̚̚n̡ͥ̿̓̑̿̅ͤͫ̅͗̈́ͬ̚̕͏̝̺̤͈̝̞̻͓̰̳o̴̯̰͇̱͙̟̺͖͇͓̙̳ͪͮ̈́̀̈̄͒ͧ̏̐ͭ͋͐ͩ͐̊̊̽͆̀ͅ ̡̀̆ͬ͌̉̿͆̓̊̔ͣ́́҉̨̩͓̺̬̼͙̘̭͇̦ͅs͚̳̥͔̮̯̦͇̝͍̩̾́̀̉ͣ͗̅͘͝r̴̶̓ͫ̉̆҉̰̻̤̙̟̯̗͉̙̪͓ḙ̵̗̹͖͍̣̭͍̝̻͕̹̼̭̲̒ͮ̀ͤ̀̇̄̏͊̾ͣͦ̑̂͊͌͂ͥ̚͘͜͝z̷̶̎ͫͫͦ͏̡̙͚̝̱i̧̅ͯͥ́͒ͫ̓ͣ̊̊͛̄̿͗̾̍̚҉̩͚̣͍̱̦͕̗̞ḷ̶̴̡̛̦͚̱̜̞͙̬͈͉͖̤̫̻̬̟̣ͧ͛̇ͧͭ̂ͬͩ̃̉̔̌̈̈́ͦ͆̀i̡̝̙͓̳̩̥̣̅ͮ͒̆̅͒̒̆͑̀̚͠ṱ̛̙̠͉̜ͯ̀ͩ̕ŗ̘̠̼̺͔̣͇̩̣̝͔̪̩̝͋̿ͦ̈̀͊̊ͮͬ̊ͥ̋ͮ̈́̚͠e͐ͨ̓͐҉̣̼̻͖̱̻̖̲̟̭̜̬̭͠f̖̥̣͔̪̝͉̠ͭ̾̑ͬ́͟͢͟ ̛͖͓͎̞͚̲̹̜͔̠̙̘̟̺̠͌̀͋ͣ͊ͦ͞͞f̶̴͎̩̖͎͓͉͔͎̑̃ͧ̈́̾̓ͨ̔͒̉͊͗ͩ͆̅͛͞ǫ͇̲̥̯͉̺̺͓̰̝͉̝͉̺̣ͮͤ̇ͬ̔͒͛͒͗̒̀ͅ ̬̰̼̝̣̭̗͚͉̬̟̟̘̣͔̳ͮ̂ͩ͐ͯ͛̆͘͜͡ͅs̢ͦ̐͑̑͏̨̭̣̣͎̣͕̪̩ẹ̢͍͕̞̤̞̙͙͕̭̞̜̤̪̪̩̫̒́ͩ̍̍ͫͫ̃ͧͥ̉ͪ̓̄́ͣ̔ͣ͘p̷̧̾ͫ͒̒͊̈́̆̅ͩ̐ͨ͟͏̠̖̬̼̭͙̜̜̦͖̹̞͓͉̙̼̲̟ͅy̶͐͒ͯ̓͏̯̖̯̤̱̘̹͚̰̣̻̳̥̕ţͩ̔̐ͬͤ̊ͮ̏͊̎ͨ̑̃ͪ͞҉̶͓͕͎̖͔̻͓̘͔̱̗̬̖̜̯̪̫̗̀ ̸̴̶̩̜̝̻͓͉̫͉̲͙̺̦͙̺ͯͩ̀̂͌̀ͅs̛̩͇̻̲̬̖̔̀ͫ̐́͑̀̀͘ŭ̷̓͊ͧͦͧ́̚҉̸̲͉̲̳ȯ̷̶͈̪͓̟̮͙̺̫̟̆̀ͭͩͮͤ̽ͦ̌̐̊̈ͬͦ͊̂ï̛͙̯̫̩̼͓͔̮̺̓ͯ̋͊ͨͪͩ͐̍ͣ̀ͬ̏̉ͧ͆ͧ́̚ṙ̡́ͥͮ̍ͤ҉̷̺̱̩̹̮̙̰͇͕̯̺̮͇̥̩̰͈͚͝ȧ̴̠͎͕͖͈̗͖̪̟̫̂̅̇̔͂̌͗̔͡͠v̴̺̬͎͖̜͔͇̀ͬ̽̒̆͒̈͛̿̕ ̌̂ͬ̍͊ͩ̏͏̥̣͖̳̩̘̪̝̫̫̪͢ͅͅf̡̡̲̭̩̠̬͈͈̊̈͗ͤͣ̐̽ͭ̂̋ͣͮ̋̄́̕͟ͅơ̧̠̗͇̭̫̗̞͎̒̿ͪ̌̈ͮͦͮ͆̒ͫ͆ͫ ̧̩̭̲̭̟̘̊͆̾̓ͣ͐̍͜ẻ̞̮͚̱̦̖͕͍͙͖̱̋ͧͪ̕͠͡ͅc̹̘̮̳̳̦̞̜̲͔͎̪̦͉̳͚͈̈ͮ̓̏̋̄̋ͪ̓͛͆̈́̈́ͩ̐ͮ̿̃̚͢͟ͅñ̷̡̜͉̺̺̭͖̼̻͉̦̰̯̰͍̣̌́͗̋͊ͭ̊ͫͮ̏̉̅͐ͥ͛̈́͠e̴̡̖̠̟̼̲̙̣̣͍̠͎͕̳̺ͫ̈́ͪ̓͡u̧̼̙̜̲̮̱͓̮̟̫̻̹̙̩͈͎̘̤ͪͮ͗́͋̽̀ͬ̂̊̾͠ͅl̨͚̹̠̥̣̫̯̣̻̬̪͍̹͔̱̭̖ͥ̃ͭ̋̈́͋̾̓̓̾̌ͧ͌̽͂́͢f̢͙̲̦͓̞̹̰̺̩͎̣̣̰̘̘̓ͪ̿ͬ̓͂ͣ̀̋̀͘͝͡ͅͅn̜͍̖̲͈̞̺̆͐̅ͪ͒̍ͥ͡i̎ͪ͐͊̅ͬͮ̽͜͏̵͜҉͇͈̙̻̪̱̖̗͚̣͕ ̧̛̲̩̩̳̥͙̙̂ͣ͋ͬ̽͒̀̎ͦͣ̋͜͞e̛̪͔͎̖͐̍̄̄͆̕h͍͚̎͗͐̾ͧͤ̆͒ͥ̎̚͢͟͞͡ͅt̨̛͈̭̦̬͍̤͔͍̘̼̯̫̰̪̣̳̫̎̄̌͊ͫͥ͛̕͟ ̸̸̡̱̞̘͈̪̱͉̗̘͚͕͙͎̼̝͙̜̒ͦ̀͒ͫ̆͆̓ͬ̾ͨ̇̆̚e̶̵͖͕͍̤͎̺͓͓̞̥̊̀͌ͬ̆̎͋͐͑̒̃ͥ̊ͧ̓́͢t̢̘̟̜̖͊̊ͪ͛̓͊̑̑̈ͬ̈̀͢͝͠a̷̷̢̛͕̺̫̦͚̤͙̦͔̳̬̬̥͚ͪ͐ͬͨ͌̃͗͂ͧ̿̋c̡̺̠̭̳̤̣̻̜͌ͣ͗͑͘͞͝ͅì̵̧͍̹̫̩̮͚̩͚͙̩͇̯̟̫̤̬͐̾̀̈̉͑̾ͣ̐̓͌ͨ̈̄͌̃̚͝ḑ̯̟͍̪̦ͯͪ̋͆̐̐ͩͦͤ̀͟͜n̴̡̮̘̯͇̗̱̺̜͂̔ͭͭ̔̽͂̄̐̃ͨ̐͂̿͟͠͠i͌͗̏̆̾ͫ͆̿̈̐̉̑ͫ́̓̍̚̕͟҉̴̱̰͍̖̯̳̲̹͙̪̱̻̜̪͈͚ ̨͖̖͙̭̭̺̟̰ͨ̏̀̇͋̇ͮ͗̓ͨ́̏͟o̶̵̸̹͈̝̺̫͔̠͔̗̮̟̺͊̑ͧ̇ͨͮ̉ͧ͌ͯ̓̃͋ͬ̒ͨ͟͢t͗ͨ̽ͪ̄ͣ̂ͥ̌͂̓̃ͬͣͥ҉̖͙̞̰̪̹̖̤͙̝͎̙͖̹̮͎̻͘͢͝ͅ ̈̍̓̿ͮ͜҉̢̭̥͖̙̞̞͓̻̪̜̜́ͅs͖̩̺͌͗́̈̂͗̿͒ͤ̔͌̇̎͌̀ͣͩͨ͘͜͠ț̛̙͚͓͓̰̩̟̦̹͔̆ͭͯ̏ͮͭ̏͌͌̉̎ͯ͂̽ͨ̕n̢̖̫̖̣̙͔̬͇͉͈͚̟͑̊̄̀ͥ͆͐̉͆͐̏ͫ̇̊́͆̚͜͢͠ͅë̢̻̰̖̬̩͔̬̫̹̼̣͋̇̽̉̀́͝͡m̡͕͔͖͎ͧ̋̍̉ͪ͆̕͝͠i̽̅̈̄̈̄͛ͣ̌̄̉̓͝҉͓̻͖̩͇̫̣̤̞̘̖͇̻̲̕r̮̙̗̬̥̰͉̼̗̝͓̜͍͍̠̮̳̩̘̂ͬ̈ͦͣ͆̍ͨ́̊̑͊̄̓͐̚͠͞͝͝ě̢̜͚͍̗̝̞̮̘͙̠̙̠͎͕̫͈̾͒͌̓̾͜p̛̾ͪͤͭ̔̈́́ͫ̓̓͋̏͏̡͚͕̥̱̜̭͠x̸̆̓ͧ̃̄̇ͨ̆ͤ͒̈́͡͏̶̗͉̲͙͙͉̝̝̥̞͡ë̥͚̳͇̖͎͉͍͚̲̞̿̎ͤͧ̿̇̓͐͛̈ͯ̑̊̕͢͞͝ ̶̢͉͈͈̺̭̖̱̇̑ͭͩ̎̒ͮy̵̳͎̼̣̰͕̮͇̮̓͒͋ͬͤ͟ȓ̵̡̘͎͓̤̟̹͍͚̣̜͉̲̯̞̞̞̻͖̽̓ͅȯ̵̴̓̂ͩͯ͜҉̜͉̝͈̯͙̩̹̼̞̪͍̩̬t̸̢͚̟͖̭̦̻̬̬͎͖͎̬͓͉̹͒̍ͧ͛̚͢͟à̄ͮ̓́̉ͧ̊ͧ́ͪ̓ͯ̎̚͏̡̞̺̟r̭̝̜̤̬̗̟̫͚̞̼̹̞̟̫̺͉͎ͣͧ͊̔͘͝ȏ̶̢̞͔̘̜͉̩̩͎͓͓͎̥̍̓̆̉͛ͪ͂̕b̠̻̰̮̟͓̊̎ͣ̅͒ͥ́̎ͯ̆̎̀a͌͑͌̀͌ͩ̉̚҉̡̛̬̲̜̤̰̯̮͉̻͈̱̘̲̟̘̣́l̷̷̢̡͔̮̠͓͔͗͛̄ͧ̿ͬ͑͐̂͞ ̢͙̗̣͔̻̱͈̪̾͒͗̅̃ͥ́ͯ͑ͮ͗ͧ͌̂̔̊ͯ͘͜͢͠k̡̧̛̛̭̞̙̫̟̟͖͍̠̉̈̒ͬ͗͑̊́̈́̊̄̃̈c͌͑ͧ̾̓ͫ͌̓̒ͧͯ́͠҉̧̹̞̜̯į̴̭͎̬̘̞̬̪͋͌̆͠ͅu͓̥̮̹͉͉̠̰̭̫͔̬͚̻͗ͬͣ͛̂̈́͒̿ͭͭ̐ͮ̀͟q̢̯̳̼͕̹͍̯̲̦̎ͯͤ̃͂͐ͯ̚̕ ̵̗͍̥̝͓̜̼͉͇̭͖̬̘̓ͧͬ͗̿ͪͪ͐͠ͅņ͕̥̹̥̟ͦ͋̋͒̚͘̕ị͎̼͕̪̺͍̥̖͔̥̯̜̻̞̠̹͉̇̌ͮ̒ͮ̍̓ͭ͂ͦͪ̔ͬ͆ͣ̈́ͧ́͝ ̸͉̖̤͈̳̼͚̦͔̲̃ͪ̑͒ͭ̅ͭ͐͑̊͑͊͂̎͒ͨ̚̚͘͡͞͡m̍̆͋ͯ͊̍͑ͬ͂̾ͭ̒ͯ͏͏҉̳̳̭̝̭̰̻̙̩̣͈̤e̷̢͛̃ͦͧ̃͂̍̏ͨ̑͂̀ͬ͆͂̚̚҉̠̥̻̺̫͇͕̙̲̜͉h̢̧͚͔̝̞͎͈̩͖̥̖̜͚̠͎͎̹̖̞̋̔ͧ͆̓̃̕͡t͈̟̻̞̘̜ͤ̏̓ͨ̌ͤ͗͗ͧ͢͝ ̧͚̭̮͈̜͖̜̦̣̤̱̮̼̰͎̠̄ͭ̈́̾̊̌̂ͭͧ̉̆̚̕ͅf̢̛͉̥̺͎̻̯̭͇̙̤͓̪̯̽͒͐ͬ̂͊ͮ̉ͨ̊̽̌̌͑̊̀͢͟ŏ̸̙͚̱̮̣̻͇̘̝ͨ̀̿͆̈́̋ͧͦ͑͒ͣ̏̀ͣ͋ͥ̾͑͡͝ ͫͥ̾̓ͪ̆̏̃ͧ͋ͣ͂͊͟͞҉̲̱̻̳̝̲̗̪̣e̸͐̈ͤ̿ͯ́͂͑ͤͧ̊̋̈́ͮ́͏̵̖͙̞̳̱̮͖̘͓̼̙̙͕͟m̡̧ͣͬ̅ͬ̌̅̌͂͗͆ͣ̓̂̌̓ͣ͢҉̱̖̭̳̹̬̺̳̣͓͙o̵͍͉͈̥̪̙͖͔̞̦̩̪͓̹͖͓͉͔̅ͣ̑͒̾̍̀ͪ͂ͬ̇ͯ͊̚͢͠͞ş̸̢̛̹͚̗͙̏̈̇̏͘ͅ ̨͔̱̪͕͚͔̙̲͈͓̝̰̞ͫ̊ͮ̀̔ͯ͂̅̔̊̑̽̒̚͡͝ͅy͗̌͌̾̉͢҉̴̛̜̹̠̝͈͔̠ȏ̡̢̧̡̟̹̩̯̝̙̻̓ͤ̚͜ļ̠̺̖̬̼̭͎͓͖̈́ͨͪ̓̀͡pͮ͌ͦ̄͛ͭͧͧ̿̇̉ͨ҉̷̻̘̳̺̪͙̭̹̼̖͙͡ͅm̨̛͕̬͚̱̞̫͇̱̻̣͙͚͖̱̤͍̩͓̅̾͊ͥ͞e̸̡̱͔̖̹̣͔̗͈̼͉͖̜ͯͬ̔͒̎ͨͮ̈́͂̚͘͟ ̿͆ͩ̉ͥ̏ͩ̒ͫ̏̇̃͗ͧ͜͞҉̫͙̰̲̘̼͕͙ǫ̨͈̺̪̦̬̲̬̼̜̐̈͐ͯ̔̔͛̌̋ͪ̽ͮ̿͐ͭ͢ť̬̭̪͕̰͕͎̠͕̲̠̐ͭͬ͂̍̏̀ͮ̋̈́̅́͘͞ ̛͚̖̰̞̖̥͕̪̻̜̮̱̫͕͇͎̉̂͂̋ͭͣͥ̑̑̆̂ͣ͂ͬ̃ͬ͒̓̚͝e̵̴̞̹̹͚͚ͫ̉̂̆ͪͦͫͨ̽̍ͨ̈̇̔ͦ̽ͬ͘ͅl̦̦͙̬̖͈̯̮̥̯͚̇ͭ̒̿͘͜ͅb̜̟͙̯̭͇̥̰͉̪̮̯̻̺̬ͥ̊ͣ̂̀ͣ̓̿̿ͥ͐ͤ͌̋̊͡i̢̪̟̦͕̦̜̱͕̞̤̮͛̑̍́̀̕͝s̈́͒͆̇̋ͭ̍̐̾̇̒̓̆̈̐́̌̀͘͠҉̦͓̱͚̀s̸̵̡͓̝͇̘͎̖̣̀̾ͧ͛̍̉ͮ̀̉͑̐̌͊͂̀͘o̸̰̰̠̣̠̬̼̭̙͇̳̯͈͆̂́ͨ͋ͦͧͭ͗̓ͣ̒̉ͨͩͨ̃̀ͅp̴͋̂͆̽̇̇̌ͥͦ҉̷̴̮̩̝̭̰̘̦̣̗͡ͅ ̛͕̜͍͎͕̘̯̭͔̖̩̩̲͇̯̤͉͔͆̾̊͑̑ͥ͐ͦͦͦ͘͡y̷͌͂̐̂̍̈́͆̇ͬ̑̃̌͟͝͏̵̻̗̣̪̲͚͚̳̞͈̻̘̹̰l̴̞̜͕̠̙͔̺͓̟͈̬̬͇͎̀̽ͨ̌͊̂ͤͣ̓͑͐͐̑́͝͝i̷̢̫͔͓̼̝̫̲̼̰̭̙̼̻̮͎͕͇͈ͩ̔̅̌ͩͯͪͤͩ͑ͤ̽̑ͯ̓̎̏̈͞s̷͇̺̼̠̳͇̤̰̑̈ͮͣ̌̓ͥͮ͗̌́ͅa͖͚̱̯̗͔͓͕̱̩͈͙̳ͥͬ̿ͨͪ͐̃̔̍̉̒̌͢͞ẽ̦̹̩̘̲͉̘̖̫ͯ͛ͤͣ̓̑͑̔ͯ̐̃̀́͡͡ ̨̒ͩ̎̓͢͏̵̼̤̤̜͖̣̲͚ě̒̂̈ͯ͋ͬͫ͒̓̌ͣ͗ͤͨͬͪ͏̥͓̠͓͉̼̪̬͙̜͔͈̘͈͍͎́b̶̡̗̯̦̮̜̦͊ͤͭ̈̆ͩ̐͟ͅ ̷̤̼͇͉͙͓̠̝͍̪̒ͯ͋̊ͥ̓̔͆͒ͮ͗͟ṭ̰̥̞̙͎̠͍̞̋͂ͤ͊̎͌ͦ͜͞o̢̖̤͖̫̺̲̰̲͖͙͉ͨͮͯͨ͌͝͝n̛̠̠͍̤̫̭̖̣̭̤͈͙̤͔̿͋̆̒̈́̈́̔̋͂ͥ̈́ͧ͞͝͠͠ ̡̝̲̜̭͙̪̯̣̝̖̮̙̲̄̽̒͛͘͢t̶̡̊ͮ̇͗͌͒ͤ͒ͦ̂ͤ̋̇҉̛̟͔̟͇ỉ̵́̌͊͌ͥ̐ͦ҉͔̘̰͚̲̫̞̘̬ ͋ͤͮ̋͌̍͐̽ͧ̓͌ͧͬ̑ͤ̚͏̛̦̤͇̀͠d̵̮̲̝̣̪̝̣̘̪͍̗͙͈͊̆͌ͩ̑̓̉ͧ͒̾͐̈͒̿̐ͥ̐̂̓͢͡l̴̼̣͙̥̣̩̹̭͇̺͕̦̥̣̪͊ͣ̈́̇͐̒̀͆͆̊ͧͭ͆̋ͣ͛̌̚̕͟ͅų̺̺̹̩͌̃ͭ̒̌ͤͥͣ͛͌̇̔ͮ͞ọ̗̜̹͉͖̄̋̏́ͭ̀̔́͘͡ͅW̗̫̝̪͇͍̻͖̲̼̙̻̘̘̹͖͌̔̐̂ͭ̒ͦ͑ͪ̂̏͆̀̕̕͡ͅ ̛̟̥̰͉̹͖̱̝̠̘̳̇̅̄ͦ̇̃̂́́̒͑̿̓ͤ̓̏̋̀́͝ͅ.̸̴̧̛̠̫̺͚̘̼̩͖̗̳̤͇̮̼̹̈̒̾ͬ͊ͩ͗̾̍͆͐ͨ͐ͪ̿̚͘s̛ͥ̔ͤ̈ͥ̑̌͂͞҉̡̧̞̲͓͕̣͎̠̗̲̝͎̤m͎͇̲͓͈͍̤͈̩̫̮̹ͤ̈̔̒ͣ͗ͩͧ́̾̋̊̔̂̊̿̓̎͘s̢̖̜̼̼ͭͣ̐ͥ͌̉ͧ͌͌ͤͨ͟i̛͍̦̫̝̲̼͓̘̠̗̥͓̜̦̞̜͌͂̃̍͌̃̊̀ͅn̢̫̜̺̦͉̝̫͈̤̳̗̈̏͐ͥ̄́ͅà̃̔͑ͣͪ͋̆ͣ̏ͥͧͨ͗ͯ̀̚̕͜͝҉̭̯̯̼͍̠̜̗ͅh̷̗̰̯̱̗̻̤̼̱͔̳̬̣̪̳͔̄͂͋͆̆̏̋̓̏̒͜͠c̴̨̧̨̛̳͍̪͙̤̋́̀̃̊͂ͤ̋̋ͦ̓̎̀̍ͩe̷̎ͮͣ͛͑͛̅ͯ̈̑̑͊̏̊̋́̒̑͌͏̧̤̞̱̫̳̤͍͇ͅm̵̭͓̳͈͎͖̞̠̗̦̞̞̓̄ͬ̀͛̋̔̚͘͢ͅͅ ̵̡̱͙̳̘̥̹̦̬͖̀̋̔͑̋̐̉̆ͦ̋̉ͦͬ̔̑̓̚͟s̢̧̯͉̦͕̒́̉̽͐̔ͧ̑̂͐̉̒̔̏́́̑̆̕͝͠ͅͅu̸ͩ̆̈͊ͤ̌̄͊̀͘҉̥̗̺̬̦̜̙͢ơ̢̝̯͖͙͕̦̗̤̺͈̋̏͂͑ͫ͗̀̽̊͌͆̌ͭͫͯͣͪl͇͙̼̱͎̝̠̰̥͙̓͌̂̆̀ͫ͆͆̇́̕e̡̛̲̱̗̞͓͔̩̗͇͉̜̖ͩ̋ͭͪ͠ͅv̡̨̹͔̙͉̠͍͈̰͎̹̹̱̪͕̎̓ͦͬ͐ͮ̔̎́ͅͅr̜̖̲̺͓̤͉͚̗̲͖̰̮̻̯̜ͭ̽̀̔ͨ̊̊̇ͬͧ͊ͬ̚͠͝a̴̡͈̪͓̱̤̳ͯ̑̋ͭ̉̈́ͮͧͩ͋ͫ̿ͮ̿ͣͥͮ̈́͘͢m̊͂͋ͭͮͪ̅̂̇̽͒̓͊͗̄̈́ͤ̚҉̸̩͙̖͚͘͜ ̷̸̸̧̤̣̗͓͍̄͌ͧ͋r̜͎͙ͯ͑̋̒ͦ̑͆ͤͯ̾ͤͭ͂̀͟u̶͇̘̯̬ͨ̋ͦͨ͒̉̅̔̕ơ̟̘̝̹̭̬͖̘͙͈͙͎̘͛̈͑ͯͮͧͦͣ̾̽̈́̍̈̊͊͐ͯ̀͜ͅy̸͙͓̣̼̟̲͎̮̱̬̘̍ͮ̓͋̋͗̑̾̐ͭ̒͡ͅ ̸̷̟͙̜̟̻͋̋ͫ͒̈́͗ͨ̑̂̄̀ͦ̂͌ͪͮ̊̚͝f̛̩͓̦̤̹͕̫ͭ͐ͬ̑̊̋ͦ͛̋ͣͭ̓̄͠o̵͇̺͙͔̭̻̪̹̼̥̖̺͍ͣ̓̃̔ͩ̀͋ͧ̉͠ͅ ̸͙͚̲͙̱̣̰͖͓̙̤̒ͭ̇ͯ̑ͪ̾ͧ̈̓ͮ̽̏͜͟e̵ͩ͆̒͐̇͐́̕͏̗̩͈̭̹̝͍š̴̢̛̱̰̳͉̬̠̰̗͖̳͕͔̙͔͉͑̐ͯͬ̋̓́̀͠ụ͉̣̥͕̲͇͙̾̾͋̍ͪͪ̎͛̂ͬͭ́̚ͅ ̵̙̼̯̠̥̻̫̖̖̤ͥ́̔͂ͪ͛́͑̌͟͟͡ͅr̛̆́͌̓ͨ̈́͊ͥ͆̏̐̚͏̸̡̳̺̯̪̮̜̝̹͈͖͔͙̠e̸̎ͫ̄̎̔̽̊̌̾̉̈́̕̕͞҉̹̩͉̹̪̻̤͉͈͙̝̝l̸̡̯̮͍͎̩̪̟̣͗͂͛̽͗̓ͭ͛ͤ̽̀͡ͅl̨ͤͩ̆̂̂̀͆̐ͬͧ͏̝̮̻̤͔͙̲͓̩̺̗̠̻̩̱̝͡ų̛̛̎̉̂ͦͩͬͧ͊̓͒ͦ̃̽ͧ̏͑̾҉̰̜̻ͅf̌̅ͦ͒̄͆̒ͯͬ̑ͫ͛ͦ̅ͮͦ̽̊҉̵͎̣͕͈̺̜̖͙̼̲̜̩͞ ̧ͫ̔̇͒̂͏̴̩̜̫͙̫͚̩̹̜͕͍̟͝͠y̲̟̜͕͍ͮ̒̊̈͆ͫ̿ͦͫͫ͡ͅb̨̡͍̱̘̳̣̟̳͙͍̯̟̱̘̂̇́͌͠ ̮̦̝̱͍̮̲̜͚̖ͣ͆ͪ̇̑ͥͦ̃͛̊ͣ̑ͦͦ̂͘d̋̄̀͑̈́͒̅͊ͦ͌̂̄̊̍̂ͪͣ͑͢͡͏̜͍̩̟͚͍̼̲͓͍͖̗̩̝̞̥̪e̴̢̛̙͎̝̖̪̝̝̹̣̺͍͇̣͔͔͍̭ͦ͛̃̍ͨ̒̒̕d̷̩̰̟̠̼̳͈̮ͤ͂ͧ̉ͭ̈ͫ͗̏͊̾͒ͥ͛̊̂͂̐̓͘e̶̶̩̪̘͇͉͕̩̗̬͇̿̆͊̑̋̊ͭ̂̈́͆͗ͪ̑̋ͭ͗̾͘e͑̇́̑̃ͦ̓ͧͩ̿ͧ҉̻̗͍̹͍̜̘̲͓̠̖̦̗̖́ͅͅͅp̴̹͉͕̗̻̙͓̘̪̹̑̓ͯ͐̏͟͞s̴̴̹̪͓̞̺̙͔̺̤̈́ͭͬ̆̐̏͛̔ͥ̄ͬ̅͋ͫ́̍̏̀͘͞-̋͂̈̆̽̂͐̽́҉̛̞̠̠̫̭̻̰ ̢͉̩̪͇̖̪̬̗̠͔͇͍̊ͭ͂̀͞~̢͕̠̘̱̂͛́̀͋ͥ̅͐̽ͣ̽ͧ̑̚̕~̾́̆͆ͧ̅͐̈́ͯͧͫ́̋ͬͪͤ̉̒͒҉̫̫̻~ͪ̿̐͑̅̄͆̎̋͏͏̴̸͈̦̠̬̟͔̮̬̗͖̻͎̤̰ͅ ̸̨̿ͯ͗ͬ̏ͮ̀ͤ͆̚͢͠͏̦̹̫̲̟͓̲-͎͓̠̘͊ͭ̐ͦ̀̕͠s̶̡̫̠͔̩̹̘̰̫͙̅ͪ͆͒̄ͩ̓̌ͤͦ̀ī̥̣̤̣͈̘͖͙͑͐ͤ̅͐̉͛̌̓̕ ̷͈͇͇͈̲̜̰̯̻̞͉̖͓̖̠͇̫ͯ̇̓̀̏̽̒̒͐̆̃ͩ̅͠͝ẗ̢͇̜͓͕̪́̌́̂ͪ̏ͯ̕͜ͅn̴̵̴̜͙̠͖͈̺͚̹̟͛̃̄͆̈́͛̇e̞̬̬̮̭͓̩̳̞̠̠̤̭̳̲̭̪̔̈́ͦ̈́ͮ̾̅̔̊ͩ̕͠ͅmͪͪͣ͌͌͆̾ͮͤͫͯ̓͂҉̶̫̠̳͉̰̰̩͕͜͠p̽ͬͮ̑̽ͫ͒̂̿̍̈ͯ͋̚҉̵͈̜̜̪̫͙̰̟͙̱͉̤͇̭̖̦̖̠̮ö̴͖̳̣̥̠̫̹̟̳͎̠͕͈ͧ́̌͊̽̊ͮ̿ͥ̏ͤ̆͝͠ļ̧̤̝͇̭̥̖̬̳̪̞̮͇͈͈̠͎ͩ̇́ͬͧ̑̾̈́̓̇ͭ͆̈̑͢ͅe̒͊ͥ͂̏̽͌̉ͥ̈͐ͮ̈́ͬͭ͐҉̫̦͚̺̯̯̦̞̞͔̬̲̀͠v̨͉͓̜͍̟͚̩͙̲̖̺̙̤͈͗̌̔́̏̂ͦ͊͗̾̅͌͞͠ẽ͔͕͇̺̜̙̖͎̙͋ͨ̑͑̈̈̃ͩ̃͗͂͊͛ͬ̀̔́̚͟͞d̶̢̠̦̝͚̱̠̻̖͒̈̀ͨ̕͡͠ ̶̷̶̟̮̳̺͈͚̖̯̝̱͙̭̜ͤ̀͑́͊ͫ̔ͭͩͬ́̈̑̌ͩl̵̳͇̪̩̖͈̻̮̳͔̘̳̤͕̺͍̻̘̍̾ͧ̊̓͢͟͡a̢ͦ͑͛ͮ̽ͬͥ́̇ͦͤͮ̇̚͡͏̵͚̝̥̱r͚̦̣͈͔ͦ̄̌͛ͩ̉́̚̕u̓̓̑ͭͤ́̚҉̷͙͇̟̹͕̻̻̫͙̗̰̦̬̘̜̭͍̩͡t̷̖̖͍̖̞̪̪͍̱̟͎̠̳̘̰̐͋͋ͮ̒͊͒̓ͨͤ̒̑̂͢ͅͅl̓̅̔̏̾̑́̃ͨ҉̧̙͎̘͓̜̯̥̱̥̝̤̘͈̟͚̥͟ṵ̵͍͍̖̖̲͓̟͎̻̲͇̣̳̦̙̫̬̉͛̈́̓̔̇̎̾͋̓͛͡ͅc̴̨̠̳̦̝̝̩͚̦̜̥̰̲̺͙̟͎͇̎͋̉͆ͮ͑̇̆ͧ͂̐̅͆ͮ̀̕̕i͑̓̆̿ͭͬ͒ͫ̏͛̇̓҉͖̮͖̤̭͠rͬ̃̓͊ͯ͊́҉̭̲̩̙̯͙̮̗͔̙͎̰g̡̽ͫ̍͂҉̞̘̙͇͚̻͍̞͉̲͇͕͚̺̻̳͙͈̕͡a̺̹̥̱̤͇̬̱͔̽͆̉ͩͪͩͤͧ̃͠͞ ̴̸̠̼̯̮̮̗̞͍̻͔͇͚̻̐͗ͫ̾ͫ͑̏̓ͫ͋ͥ̈͂͋̅͐͊͘͢͞ͅŝ̻͎͓͙̯̻͕̱̗̳͋͌̓̇ͪ̅ͣͨ̀ͭ̀͛ͤͦ̌̀̀̚s̶͙̮͉͖͙͕͍͈̺̈́͗͛̽̏̔̐ͭ̈̌͘̕͝͠a̛̝̟̰̰̽͋͊͋̈́ͭ̌̄̽ͯ͊ͭ̋̿ͥ͗̀ͪ͂͜͟m̧̩̙̼͙͇͔̫̥̗̠̞͕̤̳̜͉̓ͧ̍ͪͥͨ̀͡ͅ ̿ͧ̃ͦ̍̓̊̓ͭ̔͐ͭ͒ͭ̓͊͏̹̰͍̭̺͎̮̮͇̮̦͕̣͞t̛̯̹̤̳̲̫̹̼̼͖̬̞͖͕̞̗̾̇ͯ̏̈́͛̽ͫ̑̾́̾͝a̷͕̦̺̝̖̝̦̺̯̙̥̻̰͔͗̊̒ͭ͂̇̏̏ͫ͆̑̐̚͡ͅḣ̡̢͙͓͎̙̽̆̅͂̂ͨͩ̄͝t̾ͤͦͭ̄͡҉̷̸͈͉͍̩̯̠̦̭͎͍͚͔͕̖̼̳ͅͅ ͥ̋ͮ̔̀̏̈ͭ̀̓ͧ́̎ͯ̚͏̨̣͉̙̬e̸͕͎̤̤̩̓ͯ̃̃̆ͭ̐ͩ̎̽̓̌̔ͯ̍̊̈ͮ̚͢ļ̵̸̴͓͕̗͖̙̗̻̹̦̖͙͉̠͉̯ͫ̀ͭ̍ͩ͗̏ͦͣ͑̓ͅb͂͗̂̽̏̍҉҉́͏̯̣͍̝âͦͩͭ̊ͥͪ̈́ͭ͏̶҉̯̥̗̹̯̻̖̺̗̭̙̺̣̹͚̠̹͎̕͟ͅt̏͆̎̔̒̌͏̢̦̩̱̣͎͡ṋ̡̥̲̞̖̫ͭ͗ͮͯ͗ͬ̅͗̀̏ͥ̓̀̚͡ͅḙ̴̳̫̯͙̳̪̥̹̓̈́͑̏̇̿̄͢͟͡m̨̼̰͈͓̰̗͎͚ͨ̉̌ͨ̈́ͤ͌̑̓͛̒͌̌ͩͯ́̆͝å̴͕̬̈ͦ͂ͧ̔ͨ̉̂̎̿̽ͯ̄͗ͤ̈̚̕͢͟ͅl̡͈̻̫̗̟̤̪̬̜̣̯̟͙͇̻̼̹͗ͮ̾ͥͭͥ̽̎̆̽̆͐ͦ͆̌̚͢͝͞͞ ̷̖̻̜͓̼̃̅̃͐̒̇̉̃̆ͬ͌́s̡̨̛͙͚͈̦̗͔̳̯͕̑̉ͧ̅̿͒ͫ̀ͭ͂ͮ̒͋̅̏̚̚ȉ̷̹͉̳̹͍͔͇̤͕̭ͣ͒̌ ̴̨̦͓͈̲̹̰̹̯̩̻͖̖͕̲̺͕ͦ͗̑́ͫ̐ͩ̃ͭ̈ͨ͟͡t̓͒ͥ̽ͪ̿ͤ̊̐͒̔ͣ̎ͬ҉̴̛̹̲̦͍̘̯͍̠̖́ͅi̪̫̝͎͈͕͍͖͇͑̑ͪ̎̕͜ͅ-̴̶̡̺̗̬͕͆ͩ̿̍ͫ̆͛̏ͮ̆ͯ̓̓͌̀͛̃ͭ̂ ̴̧̛̹̻̫͔͕̘̞̼͙̞͌̎ͥ̔͝͞"

I stared at the phone for a few minutes before I noticed someone was knocking on my left door. I mumble a quiet, "hold on," and check the light. _Yup. That's Foxy._ I checked the cameras to make sure no one else was near. _All clear!_ The door slides up into the ceiling, and Foxy steps inside. I closed the door behind her. "Hiya, Foxy. Gimme a minute to check the cameras, and then we can talk, alright?" She nods. "Cool. In the meantime, could you watch the other door for me?" I clicked it open, and continued, "If you see anyone coming down the hall, push this button, here," I pointed out the door controls, "and get my attention immediately. Got it?" Another nod, this one much more confident. "Awesome," I replied, and turned around to check my monitor.

West Hall, clear. Closet, Bonnie. Her head was very close to the camera, here, and I could very clearly see that her head was not _twitching_, as I had thought previously, it was being sporadically _overlayed_ by another, much creepier, version. I shuddered. _That is _definitely _not natural._ I continued. East Hall, clear. Kitchen, silent. Dining room, Chica is walking towards my office. _Cool._ Bathrooms, Freddy is staring at me. She's got that same, static-y overlayed head thing going on that Bonnie does, and I can see her mouth moving on the screen. Muttering the same things as they were last night, I bet.

"Well," I began, aloud, "that's everyone." I turn my head back to find Foxy, only to bump into her nose on the way. I jumped, shouting, "Jesus, Foxy! You scared me! What'd you do with the..." the door was closed. _Okay. Whatever._ "Never mind." I clicked on the light.

Chica was standing there, hand raised to knock on the glass. The door slid open, and she stepped inside. Foxy closed it behind her, and I raised my brow, about to question her, when she pointed at the computer monitor. It was showing the entrance to the east hallway, where both Freddy and Bonnie were standing, effectively blocking it off. "Eh heh. Cause _that's _not creepy, or anything. Nope." I turned back to Foxy and said, "you've got some damn good eyesight, ya know that? How did you even see those two without the light?" She raised her good hand, realized that she couldn't speak, and decided to just shrug by way of answer. _Well, that was helpful._

"So," I said, "did Freddy ever end up telling you guys that I was gonna wash all of you tomorrow?" Two counts of "no". "Huh. Can you guys even talk with each other?" No. "Oh, well that's no fun. Anyway, I told Freddy on Wednesday that I was going to bathe all of you over the weekend. Because, no offense, you guys are fucking _stinky._ Do you even remember the last time y'all had a bath?" A couple of thoughtful looks, followed by two more nos. "Well there ya go! By tomorrow, you're all going to smell fantastic." _Wait_, I think to myself, "you guys _can_ smell, right?" Two shrugs. "Uh... oh! Both of you, lift one of your arms," they do so. "Okay, now put your faces close to your armpit, like this, and breathe in through your nose." I demonstrate, they follow, and both immediately start gagging, Foxy noticeably more so than Chica.

"So you_ can _smell! Yeah," I continued once they had calmed down, "that's what you guys smell like to me." They both had their faces scrunched up in disgust, and I have to admit, they looked pretty friggin' adorable when they weren't trying to kill you. _Ah, _I think to myself, _if only they could speak... then I would _never_ be bored, working here. These two look like they would have some pretty interesting stories to tell, if I could ever get their voiceboxes fixed. _

I let them recover for a few minutes, and turned my chair so that I was facing Foxy. "So," I started, "what was it that you wanted to talk to me about, Foxy?"

She raised her claw like she was about to speak, and realized, once again, that she couldn't. She stomped a paw against the ground, frowning, whilst I took note that she was evidently strong enough to leave cracks in the bare concrete floor. _I am _very _glad that we're all on the same team, here. Otherwise I'd probably be dead by now, taser be damned._

"Hold on, Foxy, I brought something to help us with that," I pulled out an old leather-bound journal (a gift from my late aunt, that I had never gotten around to using) and a ballpoint pen, and set them down on the desk. "These are yours," I said, pointing at the book and its pen, "I want you to keep them." She held up her hands, as though about to protest, but I cut her off before she could start, "I never ended up needing to use these, Foxy, and I would rather someone else have them, if all they'd be doing for me is sitting on a shelf. That, and you guys actually have need to use it, in order for you to communicate." I stood from my chair, and waved her over to it.

She sat, albeit reluctantly, and if she could speak, she'd have been grumbling very unhappily at me. She grabbed the pen in her one good hand, deftly flipped the book open with her hook/claw, and started writing.

A few short minutes later, she handed me the journal, _'You know, I __was __going to say thank you for cleaning up my stage, and then I was going to say thank you for offering to bathe us tomorrow, but you just __had__ to go and ruin__ it by giving me this, didn't you, Sir Guard. A pirate does not accept charity. No exceptions._

_'I am terribly sorry, but I am going to have to refuse this "gift" of yours. I would rather earn something myself, than have it be given to me for free, but if you continue to insist that I keep this journal of yours, I can only insist that this old lass owes you a favor. So, should you ever need anything from me, don't hesitate to ask.'_

_I just accidentally got an animatronic pirate indebted to me_, I thought._ Not bad._

"Huh. I have the feeling that you aren't going to be backing down on this issue, are you." She shakes her head firmly, determination in her eyes. "Well alright then. I'm not going to argue with you." I pause, and then I add, "and my name is Jayson, by the way."

_Well, I suppose it's back to watching the cams_. I turn to tell my two guests as much, to see Freddy and Bonnie silently dragging an unconscious Chica out the open door.

"Hey Foxy?" I call, cautiously.

Silence.

I turn towards the other door, which had somehow opened itself when I wasn't looking, to see Foxy being dragged away (also unconscious) by the Venitts brothers.

Something flickers in my peripheral vision, and I turn my head just quickly enough to see that golden Freddy imposter swinging his fist at me, then darkness.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

_I'm being carried._ That was the first thing I noticed as I pulled myself back to consciousness.

A few seconds later, I feel myself being thrown to the ground, then I hear the quiet whispering of nylon rope, and feel it tighten against my skin. _Now I'm being tied up._ I try to struggle, to move, to do _anything_, but it's as if every single nerve in my body has been shut down. A few minutes later, I hear the shuffling of footsteps, and the _clunk!_ of a door slamming closed. I open my eyes, and see the wall of the Room of Doom, the one filled with empty masks.

They aren't empty, anymore. Each and every one of them is staring down at me, eyes full of hatred and pain. I look down. I am laying on my side, bound and gagged, on the cold tile floor of the repair room. I can hear voices from somewhere, and struggle to understand what they are saying.

"...out of suits. What should we do with them?" _David...? What are you doing here?_

_"̕Y̢oú̶͏ w̧͟il͡l͡ ̵h́͜o̡͏n҉ór̨̕ ̨͜o̷̶͏u̸r͏̨͜ ̸ag̷͘r̢͢͏e̢͜͠e͜m̴͢͠e͞n͟͞ţ̨,̸̀͢ D̸̢ą̕v̸͡i͡d̴͜ ͘T.҉҉ ̸͟͠V͏͠eń̵̷it́͡t̶̕͢s͟. ̨͞ ͡Ḩ̛͢e̡̛͞ i̷͝s̶͝ ̴͟m͏͘i͢n̵̨̕ȩ̵̶ ̸̷t͘͟o̶͡ ̷͠d҉͝o͝ w̡i͠th̶ ̴a̢͜s̴͟ ̷Į̕ ̷͡pleà̢s͠ę̸͏.́҉͟"̛̀. What?_

"Yes, yes," David says, " you will get the boy. I was talking about these two."

"This 'un can be reprogrammed, she won' be an issue. Ol' Foxy, however... I think it's about time that we replaced 'er, don't you?" _Jake too...? What the Hell is going on?!_

"I agree," says David.

_"S̴̀ơ ̴̕t̵͘͟o͘s̕s̶̢̀ ̸th̢e̛ ̵̡b̧̛o҉̢t҉̛҉h ̛͡͝o̢f̢ th̸é̢m ͝d̶̀o̸͜w̵̡͘n̶̢͠ ̵́w̸̧i̷͢t̛͜h͠ m̴͜e͜͞. ͏ I ͠d̸o͞ n̵o҉t́ ̕c̵are̛, s͟o l̡o̷n̸g͞ a̧s ͠t̷he̵y̷ are̸ g҉i̧vȩn̴ ̶t͞o͢ ̸m͡e!" Who or _what _is that? Wait-! _

_Whoa whoa whoa! Toss me?! Toss me where?!_

"It is decided, then. You will get both Mr. Reeves and Foxy, here."

_No! I want to live! I don't want to get tossed- even if I have no clue what that means._

_"̷Ex͏̛c̨è͝l͜҉͠l̷̨̛e͏̸̨n̸t!́͠ ̷͜ ͏̀͠L̛e̡͟t̕ u̸s̕͜͜ g͝e̷͏t m҉o҉͏̴v̛͠iņg̢͞,̸͠҉ ͝th̛́e̕n.̴͞͡ ͘ ̷̢́D̨̢͡a̵̷w̡n̷̨ ap̢͘͜p̴̷r̸o̴a͢͢c͡h̢̡e̷͠s͘͞.̷̡"̡̢_

I tried to struggle again, but something was still keeping me from moving anything other than my eyes. _I knew that working here was a bad idea_, I sighed._ If only I wasn't broke as balls... maybe I could have worked somewhere cooler, maybe made some better money._

"Jake, make sure to gather everything of Mr. Reeves' in the office. We don't want to leave any evidence for the cops."

"You got it, brother." I can hear someone walking away, presumably Jake.

"Alright, Freddy, help me open up the passage, will you?"

I heard 'Freddy' growl in disgust, and say, _"͡Y͟͜o̷u̢̕͜ ̷m̛͟o̵͞r̵̡t̵͜a̢l̵͢s͜ a̡re s̸o͘ ̶͝_ẁ̛e̷̴͞a̶̴k_͏̵!̵̷̀ ͠ ̕I̧͞f ͝yơ̷u͟͏ an͝d̢͠ ͏̛y͜ou҉r ̷̸͠b̶r̸̡o̵͘͞t̸h̨e̴̵͞r͠ h̢a̴d̶͟ņ'̛t̷̴ ̨͘b̶̷̕oun͞d̀ ̨̢m҉̸̡e͠ t̶̵o̷ t͞h̡͘͠i͜͞ś̡̛ ͢͢i̷̛n̢͘f҉̀e̴͞ŕn̕a̢͡l͟͠ mác҉͝h҉̛͢i̶̧n̛͜e͜,̧҉ ͜͜t̀͠h͠e͡͏̸ ̴̢͠bơ͟t̕h̴ ̵̧of̷͘ ͏͢͟y̢ơ҉҉ų͡͡ ̵̶͘wo͢ù͡l̕d ҉̛b̨͘͟e͠ de͏͞a͢d̕̕ ̢̢͝r͘͡į͝g̶̵͠ht̴͟ ̀́́n̵̢o̵̧ẃ̴̡.́͝"́_

_Bound...?_ _What...?_

"Yes, yes," he sighed, "you've said that before, you know. Many times. It is starting to become something of an annoyance."

The door opened, behind me, and I hear two pairs of feet step into the room. I closed my eyes. _Don't want them to notice that I'm awake._ The grinding of stone on stone can be heard to my left. _That's where the counter is, I think._ After a few minutes it stops, and I can hear David breathing heavily, because, you know, he's the only one of the two that actually breathe.

A few moments later, I am lifted bodily from the ground, and tossed down into what I can only hope is a basement. When I hit the ground, despite my protests, a pain filled groan tries to make its way through my gag. _I would say that that was at least a ten foot drop. Ow._ Taking a chance, I open my eyes enough to confirm that I am, in fact, in a basement. I close them again. _Let's see,_ I think to myself, trying to assemble a mental map of my surroundings. _Bare stone walls and floors. Candles everywhere. What I can only assume are some sort of occult symbols, drawn in blood, coat the walls. And if all of that wasn't already bad enough, there's a yawning Chasm of the Abyss™ near the back._

_**Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.**_

Something thumps its way onto the ground, and I open one eye to see the limp body of Foxy lying in front of me. She doesn't seem to be any worse for wear than she usually is, considering the fact that she looks as though she'd found herself on the wrong end of a flak cannon and survived, but still, it couldn't hurt anyone to check.

I was mildly surprised when she started shifting herself around, but then someone put their foot on her back, and she stopped. Said someone bent down onto her back, and I saw them fiddling around with something near the base of Foxy's neck. They were both faced away from me, so I couldn't tell what they were doing until the man standing over her stood up with a decently sized computer chip held between a pair of tweezers. _What did he do to her?! Oh God, I hope that that chip wasn't important, otherwise we might be in more trouble than we already were. _The man begins to turn around, so I once again close my eyes, and try to control my breathing.

A few moments pass in near silence, before I hear a thud, _lighter than when Foxy landed, thank God, _followed by the sound of someone climbing down a ladder.

I hear a voice from behind me. "Got all the boy's stuff, here." _There's Jake again... That must mean that it was David or the other guy who pulled that chip out of Foxy. _ "Did ya know that 'e was carryin' a taser with 'im?"

A surprised, "what?!" comes from my left. _If David's there, and Jake is behind me, then who the Hell was the third voice I heard from outside...?_

"Yeah," Jake continued. "I checked on the girls though, an' apparently our security guard there hasn't so much as turned the thing on! There're no marks on any of 'em!"

"Impressive," he states, voice once more impassive. "Let's go ahead and hurry up with the ceremony, sunrise is only minutes away."

More shuffling.

A low chanting is heard, in a language I have no hopes of understanding, coming from about the same place as where I thought the chasm to be.

Over the next several minutes the chanting intensifies, and I can feel a strange _stirring _in the air. It was something cold and black and stank of rot, and I did _not_ like it. Not long after, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck that very quickly intensified, until it felt like my entire back was on fire. I found that I could no longer open my mouth to scream, but my eyes flew open instead, letting my pain be known to the world.

_"̡͜So̶ ͞my̨͝͞ ̕l͟͝at͟͝ę̷śt̛ ̀t͠͠o̷͢y҉̸ ͡h͜͠a̷͠ş̷ ̛f͜҉͡i҉na͡l̴̶l̸̶y҉ ̴̷͜w͏̨́ok͏en̶҉ ͢u͡͝p҉.͝ ̕͢ ̷͜G͜oo͞ḑ̷̀.̀ ̴͞ ̛It̨ ̛͝͞í̧s ̸̢ál͢w҉̴ay̡͏s͠ s̸̀o ̸҉m̴̕u̧̕çh̴͟ ̶m̀͡o̵͟r̷͢͞è́́ ͞͠s͜͝a͜t̡͢i̷͏s҉f͟͜y̴͠͞i̡̕͜n̸̶͝g̸͡ ́͠t҉o̵͏͢ ̨͞d̕o͝ ̨t͡͠h̶͞is̡̀ ҉͏̶w͜h̡e̛ń m̵҉̢y͘͢ ̀̕p̸͢r͠e̵y ̴̡͡i͏͢s͠͏ ́aw̧a͢k̢e̷̕.̸͘͞ ̧ ̵́T͏e̴͝l̴̨l̴͞ ḿ͢e͏,"_ says the voice, while it yanks out my gag. _"͠W̸hąt͟ ̵́d̕͞o͠ ̶y̡͢ó̢u̧ t̷͟͠h͠i̸nk̸ ̡I͝͝ a̷̧m go̕i͢͡n͜g ̴̷t̨o ̷̨̛d͝҉́o͘ ͜͢w͞i̶̡t̵͢h̶̨ ýou̶̕?͜ ̸͘ ̢͢Ìt ͏į̡̢s͞ ͜a̕l͏̀͞wą̕y̕͏s͠ ̢͏̴p͞͏l̛e̛a̡͘s҉̢̕i̢͝͠n͏g̷͠ ̛͏t͝o̴̧ h̛̀èàr ̀wh̢͟͡ą̡t̡͢ ̡y̴͡o̢u̧͜͠ can̨ ̷̴t̸̡͞h̶́i͢nk̸ ͢͝of,̸̴ ҉͘b̷e̶̕͝f̶̴̢ò͘re̸h́͟͞a̴͞nd̕͜.̨"_

"Go to Hell," I spat out, unable to get my eyes to focus through the pain.

It gives me a demonic chuckle, before leaning down into my face, and saying the exact three words I didn't want to hear.

_"W̡̕e ͘w̡͟ì̡͟l̷̕l̶ ̀҉͠b̸e҉̷̶.͠"_

_**Achievement Get! TGIF!**_

_**Achievement Get! Mr. Clean**_

_**Achievement Get! It's not like it could get any worse... right?**_

**Author's Note: And so ends arc one! Over the next few days, I'm going to be editing up these first chapters, and finalizing everything for the second arc. This could take anywhere from a few days to a week, so please bare with me. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far! Please let me know via review and/or PM. Have a good night everybody!**

**Dark, out.**

**P.S. - I hope you enjoy your time on the Cliff. Hanging like that must be a lot of fun.**


	6. Liar Liar

**Night's Guard - **

**Chapter VI **

_I'm falling. I don't know how long, or how far, but I've passed more doors than I can count. I'm falling down a hallway, like that of a hotel, and each door I pass is unique. One could be a plain old yellow door, the next could be made from stone and carved with runes, and the next could be made of entrails and gore and other matter that's not supposed to be outside of someone's body. I can see a door up ahead, it almost looks familiar, like I should know what it is. It looks like a dull steel blast door, with the yellow-black pattern of caution lines on the bottom... I feel like I've seen this door a thousand times, but I know that's not true. As I near the door, I can feel myself begin to slow down, until I'm floating right in front of it. The door slides open..._ and I wake up.

It's always the same dream. Every night for the past two weeks, I've had that same dream. Sometimes, it feels like there's someone behind me, falling too. Other times there will be a bag full of stuff that falls in front of me, always out of reach. But every time I have that dream, it always ends with the door sliding up into the ceiling.

My watch beeps. _Time to go to work._

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

My name is Jacob Reese, and I work as the night guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. 12 to 6. Monday through Friday. Honestly, it's not nearly as boring as it sounds, but sometimes, I wish it was. You see, every night, the machines start acting up. They get to walk around at night because, apparently, "their servos get locked up if they stay deactivated for too long" or some shit like that. I think my manager's just doing it to fuck with me, considering the fact that I can't actually quit this damned job until the end of the month, which isn't until next week.

_**Stupid fucking contracts.**_

The robots, or "animatronics" as Mr. Faz likes to call them, wander around the same building that I do, for the exact same amount of time that I work there. Every night, they try to get into my room, for whatever reason. They never do. On the first night, I was scared shitless, thinking of what those things could do to me if they got to my office. But since then, I've noticed that they're just machines. They all follow the same pattern. Night after night. Bon Bon on the left. Chick on the right. And Freddy, also on the right. I've been told that there's a fourth, but I've never seen it.

Anyways.

It's exactly 11:30 when I walk through the door. Two weeks of the same routine. Two weeks to figure out my own. I clock in, and make my way to my office. It's a small room; small enough that if I stretched my arms out, I could touch both walls. The room itself is littered with cobwebs, old posters and papers, and it stinks like a dead man. I have two desks in this room. One is where the old 1990s-esque computer monitor sits, along with its keyboard and mouse. Also on that desk is an overhead lamp, and next to it, a microphone for the restaurant's loudspeaker. On the other desk, there sits an old corded phone that's hooked up to a jury-rigged speaker system (so no one has to pick up the phone, I suppose). The phone never rings. I'm pretty sure it's disconnected. Also on the other desk, there sit mounds and mounds of papers, posters and files. I've never had the time to go through them through.

I get myself settled into my chair, ready for another night working at Freddy's.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

This night is not going as planned. It's only 12:02, and the phone has decided that it's going to ring. I dare not move to answer it.

_Ri-i-i-ing_

_Ri-i-i-ing_

_Ri-i-_

"͝He҉llo̸,̛ h͟e̛ļl̛o̸? ̢Uh, I ͝wa͠nted̡ t͞o̢ ̶r̡ec̀or͜d a͘ mes̶sa̡ge ̧f̧o̕r̵ ̀y͘o̸u ̀t̶o͏ hel̵p ̴yóu get s͞et̢ţl̕e͏d̸ iǹ o̕ǹ yo- t҉. ͢Úm͞, ̴I ac҉ţua̵l͞l͏y͟ ͏wo҉rked͢ i͢n th̛at o͢ff͠i̡ce͢ ́b̡e̵f̢ore͠ y̛ou.̷ ͝Ì'̕m f̷in͝i̡shi̢ng ͝up̧ ͘my͜ l̢a҉st͏ wee̕k̢ noẁ,̴ a̧s͟ a̕ ̀m̢a͠tt̨er̶ ̴òf͜ fa̕c̨t.͜ So,͏ ͜Í ̧know ̧it̶ can b̸e a͢ ́b̶i̶t̛ o͝v̸er͠whelm̡in̨g,̶ ͝but͝ Į'm͜ ̛he͘re͟ to t̶e͘lļ you ̡t̸he͢re͏'̶s no̧th̴i̵n̵g to ̢wor͜ry̶ ̢ab̧oųt҉.̵ ͏Uh, yo̡u҉'͠l͡l͢ d͡o̧ ́f̢i͘n̷e̴. Sò, l͏et͘'s̶ ju̡s̕t f͘o̡cu̸s̨ ̨on g̨ettiǹg ̵you ͠th̴r̨o͝u͟gh̀ ͟yo͢u͡r̷ ̴fi̡rst̡ w̵e͡e҉k.́ O̡ka̕y͡?̵"_ First week...? What? This is my third..._

U҉h́,́ let's̛ sée,̶ first ̡t͝her̀e'͘s a̵n͠ ͡i̢nt́ròdu̶ct̢ory̴ gree̡ting̵ ̢fro͜m ͏t̶h͞e ҉co͝mp̧an̵y͟ th͢at ̛I'̢m͝ sup̢p͡os͘ed͞ t̴o ̕re̷a̷d͘. Uh,̀ i̴t̛'s̨ kin҉d̨ o͏f ͡a͠ ̧legàl̸ ̴thi̛ng̢, yo̶u ҉kņow̡.͝ U͠m,͜ ̵"Ẃelc҉o͞mȩ t̢ǫ - ìzz̢a. A ͝ma҉g̶ica̕l͟ ̛p̸l̵ac̀e̕ ̨for͜ k̀id̨s ̕ąn͢d grow͝n̸-͟u̕p̢s ҉ali͝k͏e, whér̕e f̛an͝t́as̴y an̡d f̕u͡n̢ ̢c͢ome̕ ̴t͜o li̡fe͢. ̷Fàzbęaŗ E̴ntertainme̡nt ͠is̨ n̶o̧t rès̛po̡n̸sib҉l̡e̡ f́o͝r d͠a͜ma͞ge to pr̛o͘per̀ty or̵ p͏e̵r͏so҉n̛. U͢ṕon̷ di̧şco҉ver̛i̢n͡g̨ th̸a͜t d͘amag͘e ͢o͏r̢ ̷- ha̢s ̛o̧ccur̴r̶ed͠, a m҉iss̨i͞ng ͘pers͝on̸ r̴e͢p̀o͢rt̢ ẃi͢ll̷ ̕be f͜i̶led̕ wit̴h͞in͜ 9̧0 ͏da͠ys, or as ̡so͞o͞n pro̧p̡e̶rty͜ ͠an̶d͞ p̛re͢mis̵es ͏h͝av́e͢ b͡e͜e͞n ̧tho̷ŕo̢ug̶hl̷y͢ cl̕e̛a͡ńed͞ a̛n̵d b͏l̡eached,͠ ͜a͝n҉d͞ the ͡carp̸et͝s ̸h͡ave ͜b͠e̶e̵ń r͟epl̷ac̡ed́.͏"̡. _I... what? Who_ is_ this? _

͠"̴Blàh̀ ̀b̢l̷a͞h b͏l͟ah, no͢ẁ ͢t͞ha͢t͡ ͝m̴igh̨t͜ s̡ou̵n͞d b̧ad,̛ I ̶kn͡o̕w̴,̵ bu̶t tḩe͠re͏'s͞- o̶ wor͠r̵y ͢ab͢oưt̨.͡ ̧Ùh, the͜ a͞nim̷a͘t̀ron̵i͠c ͡c̸h̶a̡ra͟c҉t́e̢r̕s҉ ҉here do͏ ̛g̴e̢t ̸a bit q͡u͢i͞r̀ḱy̶ ̶ąt ̕n͠ig͏ht͞, but ͜do I ̧blam̸e͠ t͢he͠m? ͠No͟. If̶ I̛ ͏w̕èr͡e͡ f́o͟ŕc̵ed͞ ͜tǫ ̛sin͘g͡ those̷ sam͘è s̀t̛u͘p̸i̴d̴ ͏s͘ǫngs ̵f̶or̷ twen̴t̷y yéa͘rs an̶d҉ ́I neve͡r̡ g̴ót͘ a ba͡th̷? ̴I͡'̨d ͡pŗo̸b̷a͟bl̨y̸ be͢ a̧ bit ìrrita̛b̸le͞ ͏a̷t̸ ̡night to҉o.̀ S͢o͡, ̵re͠m͠emb̕er, ͘t̶hȩs̀e ̧cha͝rąc͝t̵er͠s͢ ̸hol͘d́ a special͢ pl͏ac̛e- ̵ar̛t̸s o͜f ćh͢ild̸ren̡ ̢án̵d̴ we͢ ͢ńeed́ ̛to̢ ҉s̷h͜ow͟ th̨èm͡ a̸ l͘i͜t̷t̴l͠e ̶r͞e̢s͢p̀e͢ct,̡ ͢r̨i̴gh͞t͘? Ơka͜y̛.̴" _Okay...? I don't understand._

"S͟o̢, j͜ust͜ ͝be͘ a͠wa̛re, ̢t̶he chara̛c͜ters ͏d͘o tend͢ t͡o ̸w̢ander͜ ̧a b̛it. ͡U͢h҉, ̨they'́re ̨le͘f̕t in ͠som̸e ͡k̸ind ̷o̕f f̸ree ̷r̡ơa͝min̕g̕ ͏m̵od̀e ͢a̵t҉ ͢n̛ight͞.͡ ̀Uh̕..̡.̧Some̕th͡ińg a̡b͘out̕ ̛t͢hei͡r͏ s̢er̕vo̷s lo͝çḱi͜ng up͞ ̕i̵f͜ th͘ey ̀g̷et ̀t͡u҉rn̴ed͡ off̴ ̶f̴or t͡ơo long.̢ ͜U̴h,͘ ͟t͏he͏y ̕u͏se͏d t͞o ̶be͏ áll͡ow̷e͞d͡ t̷o͝ wa͢l̕k̸ a͢r̸ơun͡d d̴u̴riņģ ̴t͏hę ̀day t͡oo̢.҉ ̷Bùt ͜th̛en͟ the̢ŗe wa̶s̡ T͠he̡ Bite̕ ̵o̴f̨ ͟'8̵7. Ỳe̶a͟h̨.͝ I̡-̧I͠t's ҉ama̸z̷ing͠ ̴th́a̸t ҉thȩ huma͢n ̨b̷od̶y̕ ͜can- r̸ònt̷al lo͡be, you ḱn̕ow?̧"_ What about the frontal lobe? _

̀"̷U̡h̴, ̵n̢ow ̧ćoncern͟i҉n̕g yo̸ųr̕ ̕sa̛fe̷t̀y̨,̶ ̴the ̡on͠l̛y̧ ŕȩal rişk t̷ǫ ͝y̴o̧u a̕s a͢ ̧ǹigh̢t ͢wa̷tchm̶a҉n ͝h͠e̸r͠e̕,̸ ͟if an͠y͠,́ ͡i͠s̨ th͜e̴ ̴f͟ac̷t ͜t̢hat t͏ḩese ̸charac̴t͡e͏rs͢, uh̕,̵ if͏ ͞the̛y̶ h͢a͘p͝pen̶ t̴o͞ ̕see͘ you ̷after͘ ҉ho͘u͟r̵s͞ probably ̶w̸oń'̸t͝ ̨r͠ec̶ogniz͟e̴ ͢you as͝ a͜ pers͝on.̢ ͞T͘h̶e͞y'll͝ ̡p-͠m̢ost̀ li҉k̨el̸y ͞s̵ee ͟y͠o͟u͏ ͏a̸s a me͘ta̶l ҉e͞n͟dos͘ke̢le͘to̧n ̡w̨i̸th̸o̵u͏t̵ i͘ts͢ co͠st̡u͜m̡e̕ ̧o̢n̶.̴ Now ̵sinc͜e ̀t͟h̛at'́s͏ aga̴in͢st͡ ͝t̡h͞e͜ r̶ul͏es ͟he͘r̷e ͏at Fred͠dy͘- ̡ably ̷tr͢y ͏to.͠.͡.͡f̨o̶r̀ce̛ful͠ļy͏ stuff͞ ̧y͟o͟u̡ i̸ns̷i̸d͘e ̡ą ̷Fr͜edḑy̕ ́F͡a̛z̶be͜a̛r suit.̧ Um͏,҉ n͜ow,̵ th̴at͡ ̴w͟ou͏ldn'̸t͟ ͢b̀e͢ ͘so̧ ̧bad ͘if͝ the͝ ͠sui͠t҉ś ̷th͡ęm͟se̶lves̸ we̷r̴én҉'̵t̴ fil̸le̷d̴ wit͢h̢ ͜c̛rossb̛eams,͘ w͞i͝res͏, ̡and̡ ̶ani̕ma̴tro͡n̛i̵c dev̢ic͝es̡,҉ ̛e̴s҉pec͢ial̨ly̴ ͏ar̨oun͜d͠ ͜th́e ̨fac̶įa͝l̀ ̧ąr̕e͜a. ͜So, ̸yo҉u c͢o҉uld ͠i̡ma҉gi̢n̵e h͠o͏w ͜havi͞ng y̢oưr͝ ̴h̛e̡ad͠ f͠o̕r̨cefu- i̕nsid͝e ͜o͏n͞e̕ ̴of ̸t҉h͡o͝s͏e͞ could c̶a̵u͝s̶e a ͝b̴i͡t̸ ̨o͡f̨ ḑişcomf҉o͝r̶t..̸.͜ąnd ͜d̡eat͏h. U͘h, the ̸o͞nly ̴pa̷r͝ts ҉o̵f͏ y͝o͘u ͠tha͘t͡ wo҉u̴l̡d l͝ike͞ly ̧s͡ee͢ t̛he l̢i͞gh͠t͠ ͜of da͢y̕ ҉a̛gáin̢ w̵oul̕d b͞e͢ y̴ou̵r eyéb͝all͟s͞ an͡ḑ te͘e͟th w̢h́en͘ th͘ey͡ po̶p ҉o̢ưt ͝t͘he҉ ͞f͟r͟oǹt́ of ̴t́h͘e͞ ͝m̸ąsk, he͏h͠.̢"͏. _Is that what they're trying to do to me, when they try to get into my office...? _I shuddered.

͠"́Y-̸Ye̶ah, t̢he͢y͝ ͠d̶o̢n̴'̸t ̷tel̛l ̷y̡o̡u thes̕e ҉things ͢w͠he͏n҉ yo̷u͏ ̀sig͠n ̴up҉. ͢But ͟hey, fi͠rst̶ d͘a͠y̛ s͢h҉o̵ưld͏ ͡be a ͝bre͘ezè. I'll͠ çḩát w̢i̶t͏h̢ ̕yoú ţ- roẁ. ͏Uh̛, ̡ch͡e̡ck ͠t̶hos̸e ͢camer͏as̢, a̶n͠d̨ ͡reme̸m͘ber ţo c̨l̶os̛e ͟t̶h̨e̷ d̨o̸o͝rs̶ ́o̵n͠ly̛ if̀ ͢a͝bs҉ǫl͏ut̷e͞ly̨ ͢n͏e͝cessary͠.̕ ͝Gott͞a ̷c͏o͝n̵se̕rv́e p͢o̧we̴r. Al̶r̕ight͢, ̕goo͜d͜ ͜nig͡h̨t͟."

A ball of solid dread settled itself in my stomach. "What the fuck is going on? Why is it that I just got that call today? It was supposed to get here two weeks ago, from what that guy said... And what the Hell was wrong with his voice? It was like there was static, but... not? I must be losing my mind." _Whatever,_ I continued silently. _I still have a few hours before Bon Bon starts moving. Let's hope Chick doesn't join her tonight..._

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Time, 3:07. Power, 71%. Bon Bon has attempted to get to me twice, now. Everyone else is still on the stage. Hmm... I suppose I should describe them, shouldn't I? Alright, then. Let's start with the bear.

Freddy, the official leader of the Fazbear gang. It stands at an even 7', the tallest of the three animatronics. It is painted a standard "bear brown" (because that is apparently a real color), wears a top hat, and carries a microphone. It is the least active of all three machines, and is also the easiest to track. Whenever it moves, it laughs a slow, demented kind of laughter. The kind you hear in nightmares and horror movies.

Next is Bon Bon, she (and I only assume that, based on the name) is a purple bunny. She plays bass guitar for the gang, and wears a red bowtie around her neck. She stands at a good 6' 8" if you don't count the ears. Bonnie (my nickname for the thing) is the most active of the three, but fairly easy to keep track of. She always stays on the left side of the store. I don't know why.

Finally, we have Chick. She (assuming again) is a yellow-white bird. A duckling, I think. She wears a little bib on her chest that says, "LET'S EAT!" She is the shortest of the three, at 6' even. She likes to go into the kitchen and pretend that she knows how to bake. She always stays on the right side of the store. Probably because that's where the kitchen is.

Overall, these animatronics look more machine than human. All bulky suits, and exposed wires. Those creepy, mechanized eyes. Those weird sharp-but-not-sharp teeth. The _sounds_. Oh God, the sounds they make seem like they would belong more in a horror movie than a kid's restaurant. Distorted laughter. Creepy wind-up tunes. The screams. It's enough to get me shaking in my army surplus boots.

I checked my cameras. Chick is gone.

_**Chick is gone.**_

I closed the right hand door, and turned on the hall light. _Thought you could sneak up on me, eh? Nope. Just Chuck Testa._ I laughed. "I don't care what you three idiots think you're going to do to me, but it's not going to happen. _Ever._ You clear, Chick? I am not letting you guys into my office. Not now, not tomorrow, not next week, not ever. Got it? Good. Now get out of my sight." I turned off the light.

Sighing, I checked my essentials. Time, 4:21. Power, 55%. Cameras, Bon Bon is in the supply closet, Freddy is still on the stage, and Chick is in the dining room, leaning over one of the tables, facing away from me.

_Just an hour and a half to go... ugh. Sooo booooorrred. Why can't they at least change things up once in awhile? I mean, that phone call was weird, but other than that, everything has been pretty much normal... heh. I consider robots trying to kill me as normal! I really am going insane, aren't I?_

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

5:59. Almost there.

Power? 28%.

_I'm fine._

My watch beeps. _Time to go._ I gather up my things, turn off the monitor, and walk out the doors. On my way through the dining room, I see something scrawled onto one of the tables near the door. I walk closer, to get a better look. There, carved by knife-sharp claws, are two words.

_**HE LIES.**_

_**Achievement Get! Nightmares**_

_**Achievement Get! What's going on?**_

_**Achievement Get! Liar Liar**_

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm ba~ack! My fingers are all rested up and ready to type their asses off for you guys. Note, this **_**is**_** the same story, don't worry. Jayson is just having some... problems, right now. The rest, I'll let you guys figure out. See y'all in a little while!**

**Dark, out.**


	7. Wake-up Call

**Night's Guard -**

**Chapter VII**

_Falling. _

_Again._

_Always falling. Never stopping. I can never remember when it started, only after I'd already fallen. Why am I falling? Was I pushed? Did I trip? Did I... did I jump? Oh God, what if I jumped? No... that's not right. I was... thrown? Was I thrown? It feels like it fits... I think... _

_Are these dreams even dreams? What if they're..._

I groan as I wake up, already are the memories of the dream fading. "He lies?" I think, aloud. "Who the Hell was she talking about?" Ever since that stupid message yesterday, I can't seem to get it out of my head. I just can't shake the feeling that it's important... somehow. I don't know. _Maybe I can figure it out at work, tonight. Who knows, I might find something interesting... _

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

11:30, again. That's when I walk through the door to Freddy's. _God,_ I think to myself, _I really need to get out more. I'm stuck in a routine. _I _am stuck in a routine! Me! Oh God, if I don't do something about that, I might end up turning into an adult! I'm not ready for that, man! _I chuckle quietly to myself. My brain amuses me, sometimes.

"Jacob!" My manager shouts angrily at me. "Who did this?!" He's pointing at the carving in the table. You know, the one from last night? Yeah, that one.

Any way I answer that, it's not going to look good for me. If I say that I don't know and try to come up with an excuse, it's going to make me look like I'm bad at my job. If I tell him that I think Chick did it, he'll probably either think I'm crazy, or think I'm trying to blame my own actions on someone else. So I just settled for this, "I'm not sure, sir," I said, stepping over to the table. "I saw that when I was walking out last morning. 'Was actually going to ask _you _about it, sir. I thought you were playing another one of those pranks of yours."

He raised his eyebrow at me, but lets it slide. _Thank God. _ I linger there at the table, debating bringing up the other strange thing that happened, last night, but it seems like I waited too long.

"Is there something else on your mind, boy?"

I blink myself out from my thoughts, and wave it off. "No sir," I said. "I was just thinking. Nothing to worry about."

He gave me that look that said, "are you sure?" without actually saying anything.

I waved him off again, and said, "it's just stress, sir. I think this job is finally starting to get to me." _Lies. Couldn't be less stressed, right now._

His mouth opened in an "ah" of understanding. And he said, "alright, boy. So long as you're okay." He paused, before turning to the door. "I'm going to head out, now. You be safe, ya hear me?"

I smiled, "yes sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, kid. See ya tomorrow." And with that, he was out the door.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

It's 12:02 on Tuesday, in my third week at Freddy's, when the phone rings.

_Ri-i-i-ing_

_Ri-i-_

"͢U͏h҉h,̶ ̧H͢e̶l̢lo?̵ Heĺl̕o̡? ͜Ưh̴,̀ ̧wel̨l,͜ ͡i̡f̧ y͟ou're҉ ̵h͘eári͡- ̡o͝u̸ m͘ade͢ ̧i̶t ̀to͢ d̷áy͜ t̵w̧o, u̢h,̧ co̧n̕g̸ra͝ts҉!" "̶I̷-I ͘w̧oǹ'̷t̸ ̴tal̢ķ ̵q͠ui͞te͜ ̕as̷ lon̕g th͟įs ̧ti͞me ́s͝i͟n̴c͟e̷ F̡re͢dd͜y͠ ̶and͏ his̶ fŕienḑs̛ ̷te҉nd ͏to̧ ̀b̷e҉c̷o͜me͘ mo̸r͡e͞ a͏c͜t͡i̧v͜e ͜as̕ ͢the we̷ek progre͟ss̶e͜s. ́U̧h͘h͟,҉ ͏i͡t ͡m̡ígḩt ̵b̛e̡ a goo͟d͢ i̧dea t͠o̴ pe͏ek ҉a̡t͜ ̷tho̡s͞e͘ ̕c҉a͠m̀er҉as wh̨il̵e̴ ̨I͟ ̀tál̶k ͞j̸ust͠ ͟t͟o̷ m͢a̛ke ̛su̴re͡ ̕ever̶y̕on̶e's͢ ͠i͡n͟ t̕ḩei͡r pro̧pȩr pl͏a͞c͜e. Yoú ͜k͜now̡- ́" _No shit. And it's day twelve, asshole._

̧"U͘h... I͏ņt͏e͘re̢s̸ti͜ngl̶y e͜n̴oug̸h̸, ͏F͢r̴edd̸y ̵h͏i̴mself͘ do̡e͜s̴n̴'t̛ ̶cơm͏e of̷f̴ ̵s͘tag͠e ̷ve̢ry óft̢e̷n.͏ ̨I҉ ḩeard̛ he ̢b͜ec̸o͠mes͟ a ̀lot m͘o҉r͜e ac͏t͠i͝ve ̶in҉ th̛e͟ da҉r̡k͜ t́h̵o̢u̵g̸h,̨ so̸, hey, I g̶u͜es̸s that'҉s ͡on̵e ̶m͝or͏e͏ ̀r̴e҉ąso̷n n͢o͡t̨ ̕to̵ ̸ŕu͢n͏ ou͝t͘ ҉o҉f p͟o͟wer̴, rìght̕?͢ I-͠I͘ ̴al̷so͘- " "_**J̥̜̣͉̣̻̲ͯͤ͛̔ͭ̅̈̽̿ͫͥ̎̾̕͠ͅa̴̶̢̤̭̖̼̲͕ͤ̌ͨ͊̑͒̄͋̾ͯ̃̇̀̒̄̀ͭ͞y̷̢͈̜͉̥̫̳͎̼̝͙̖͓͓̬̬ͪ́̽̄͂̍ͩ̾ͩ͞s̡̪̩͖͋͋̿͛ͥ̃̀ͤ͛͊͛͛̾ͧͥ͊ͥơ̼̱͙̗̥͈̻͍͈͒͊͗̄̓͐͌͒́̐͗͒̏͂̆̾͟͝͡ņ̸̼̭̟͔̫̣̲̹̟͇̙̳̫̻̅͗́ͫ̿ͣ̈́ͩͯ̃͗͊̌ͣ͘!̶̢̛̛̞͎̯͎͖̮̭̪̬͓̯͚̄̐͊ͭͤ́̈́̓̐̓̈́̋ͬ" **_ "̀pǫrt̵a͝nc̶e̸ ͟o͢f̶ ͝us͝i͢ng ͠y̕our͡ ͞doo̕r͘ l̀ig̛hts. ͏Th̨er͞e a̧re ́bl͜in̴d͏ ҉s҉p͢ots ͢i̧n y̨o͞u̕r̀ ̵cam҉er͡ą vi̵ews̨, a҉n҉d t͠h́osè bl̢ind̷ spo͟t́s hap̡p̀ęn͢ ̀t͏o be ̨r͝i҉ght o̡utsi̡d̡e ̶o̧f yo̶u̷r ̸do͡ors̵.̸ So͟ ̶i͞f-͡i͟f you̧ can̛'t͢ f̢i̢n̕d śome̕t̶h̷i͝ǹg̴, ̧o͜r͏ ͘şómeo͜ne͡,͠ ̛on҉ ̕ỳo͞u͘ŗ c͠a͞meŕa͝s̵, ͝be s̷u̕r̷e͡ t̛ơ ͢c̕h͝e̕ck̴ ̷tḩe̢ d͟o͡or ͜li͞g̕h̵ts͘. Uh҉, ̵yo̧u mig͢h҉t on̡l͏- ̸féw ̡s͜ec͝onds̸ ͡to ̀r̸ęa͠ct̸..͢.͏ ͝Uh̨, ͜n̡o̢t̨ tha̢t҉ ̵you͘ ̕w͝ou̴l̴d̵ b͠e i͝n̸ ̕any ͟dang͝eŕ,̷ ͜o̵f ̀cǫuŕse.̛ ҉Ì'̢m ͞n- ply̴in͜g͘ ͢th͝at. ͢A̛lsǫ,́ che͠ck̴ ͞o̷n ̀t͜h̡e c̕urt͟ain̸ in ͡P̶i͠r̀at̸e ͢C͞ove ͟from t͝ime͜ t̀o t͞i͞me̷.̷ The ̵c҉hara̛çter̡ ͠in ͡t͝here ́s͟eem̨s un̷i̴q͜ue̢ in ͢t̵hat̛- f͡ ̴the̢ çam͏era̛s ͟r̡ém̢ain̕ of̢f͟ ͏fo̕r ͞lon̷g̕ pe̴r҉i͏o̵ds͠ ̀of͠ ́t͏i̴m̢e̛. I gues̵s̶ she ̷doe҉sn͝'t͞ l͞i̵ķe̡ ͞be҉i̛n̢g wa͟tc͜he͝d. ͢I̴ ̵do͜ņ't ͠k͜n̕o̶w.͡ ͘A͝n̢y̨wa͏y͝, I̸'̧m sure y͘o͝u͟-̵ ņg un͠der c̛on̕tr̀o͝l҉! U̧h,͝ t͠a̸lk͡ to͏ y̨ou soon.̷" _Who_ was _that, in the middle there? And what was she saying, I couldn't understand whoever it was through all the interference. That didn't sound anything like what the phone guy has sounded like so far... it sounded almost... female? I don't know._

_...and what was he talking about in Pirate's Cove? There's nobody in there. I checked. _

I swear, man, every single fucking day, shit gets a little more wack. I never know how, or, God forbid, _why_ this shit happens to me, but it does.

_What the fuck ever. Let's just focus on not dying tonight. _Sighing, I turn to my pc and power it up.

_Let's do this._

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

Two hours. That's how long I had to wait for Bonnie to start moving. I've taken to counting seconds (quite literally) whilst waiting for the animatronics to move. Yeah. It's more boring than it sounds, but it keeps me focused, that's for sure.

"...7,014...7,015...7,016...7,017...7,018...7,01- Hey! Someone's finally decided to move, eh? Alright Bon Bon, where are ya...? In the closet again? What is it with you and that stupid room, anyway? Were you a janitor in a previous life? Bon Bon the Murderous Janitor. Huh. That has a surprisingly good ring to it." _Headcanon accepted, _I think to myself. Oh! For those of you who don't know, I talk to myself when I'm bored.

...stop looking at me like that! I do what I want!

_**Anyways.**_

It was some time in between two thirty and three, and only Bonnie (a.k.a, the Serial Killer/Janitor) had so much as blinked in this entire time.

I check the cameras again, and flip over to Pirate's Cove. There's nothing there. It's the same as it always has been. _So what was the phone guy talking about? If there was another animatronic in there, it should have come out by now... right? I'll check it out in the morning, but for now, let's make sure I can survive until then._

_"̺̲̲̀.͇̥̺͎͝.̴̶̫̭̝̥.̶̰̤̼̣̀Ų̛͓̱̙͎ͅu҉̷̨̪̪͙̪̻͖̟h̙͕ģ̗͙̦͎.̮̪͖̲̟̦̕"̷̶̜̟̲̻̯͓_

"Shit!" I shout, turning towards the sound. It's Bonnie. She's at the door, reaching for me. "You're not taking me!" I screamed as I Spartan-kicked her back into the hall. The door slammed closed, and I slumped back down into my chair. _Whoa. Déjà vu. I swear I've done that before..._

The more I think about it, the hazier my thoughts get, until it doesn't feel familiar any more. _Back to watching cameras, I guess_.

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

The curtains in Pirate's Cove have been moved. It's 5:22 am, and the curtains of Pirate's Cove are not where they're supposed to be. Both Bonnie and Chick have tried- several times- to get get to me over the last three hours. It's been a rather boring Tuesday, overall. Excluding the whole, "there's totally a fourth animatronic that's hiding in Pirate's Cove and you need to spend all your time watching it" thing. That doesn't count.

But back to the fact that the curtains were moved, I am more curious about it than anything. I couldn't actually see anything in there, but at this point in the job, I'll take any entertainment that I can find. No matter the source. Hell, I've gone so far as to watch Freddy _sing _every once in a while. That was always fun to see. And seeing that the guy on the phone could possibly be right? That there _was _a fourth bot? That actually had me ecstatic! I was happy for anything to break the monotony of this stupid job of mine.

_**Anything.**_

Even if it meant that I'd have another machine to deal with every night.

My watch beeped.

_Time to go, _I thought.

I powered my computer down, flipped the breakers to turn on the lights, clocked out, and saw a note taped on the door leading outside.

_**WAKE UP.**_

**« « « / | / ^ \ | \ » » »**

_**Achievement Get! Bored to Death**_

_**Achievement Get! Here there be pirates**_

_**Achievement Get! WAKE UP!**_

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter guys. There really wasn't all that much to write about, this time around. That'll change in the next few chapters though, because things are about to get even more complicated for our lucky protagonist. Leave a comment on what you think is going on, and where you think this story is going, I love reading what you guys think about it. That's all for now, see ya later!**

**Dark, out.**


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